Enlightenment
by mrs-alan-rickman3
Summary: Metatron questions his role as an angel, especially where an expectant Bethany is concerned. With a VERY important child on the way, Bethany is ever aware of being alone. Metatron is made her Grigori, & with good reason: Azrael is on a mission. And he's not going back to Hell alone. - J and SB, Rufus, Serendipity, everyone's back! - Long hiatus, new chapter BEFORE the new year!
1. There and Back, AGAIN

_Author's Note_: Eight chapters of this story were posted the summer of 2004 under the name **'Metatron's Choice'**. This is the reworking/continuation of said chapters; to fans of the earlier version: glad you found your way back.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Dogma_ or its characters, I only play with them. Lucifer and the plot are mine, so back off.

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**Enlightenment**

**Chapter 1: There and Back..._Again_**

"Take your best. Fucking. Shot."

Silent Bob stared at the demon in disbelief, clutching Glick's driver with unsure fingers.

"No, seriously I'm not kidding, take it," Azrael said in an encouraging rush. "Come on, Bright Boy," he said mockingly, unbuttoning his shirt. When he got to the last button, he motioned for patience, then quickly licked his finger, and ran it down the front of his shirt. Steam rose from the line he traced, and when he reached his belt, he gripped both sides of his shirt and tugged. The shirt ripped open, revealing his slightly hairy chest.

"Don't you know _any_thing?" he cooed. Bob glanced at Serendipity, who nodded, and drew Bethany closer to her.

Silent Bob shrugged his shoulders in compliance, then wound back for a swing.

_Idiots_, Azrael thought to himself. He knew that when the driver connected with his torso, it would rebound immediately, as if the fat mortal had taken a swing at an inch of solid steel. _Idiots._

Silent Bob swung to bring the driver home. Just before impact, Azrael had a premonition.

_Aw, fuck! _

* * *

"…routine possession my ass…" 

"…explaining to do…"

"…where the fuck have you been!…"

"Your audience is required. Get up."

The harsh voices echoed inside Azrael's head, painfully bouncing off his skull like a cracked-out pinball. _Goddamn you Serendipity_, he thought. With a sigh of aggravation, Azrael heaved himself to his feet to look at the other demons face to face. As it turned out, there was only one demon, and this particular one had no face. Scraps of charred skin clung to his cheekbones, and tiny eyes vehemently glared at him from well within the sunken sockets. Azrael looked away in disgust.

"You've got far worse ahead of you, friend," the demon said, noting Azrael's discomfort at his features. He grinned, (well, more like shifted his jaw; seeing as he had no lips, one couldn't tell if he was grinning or not). "Sammael is not pleased. Follow me."

Azrael trudged along the behind the demon. This had _always_ infuriated him, how other demons could be higher in the ranks than he, and, given his present situation, Azrael was therefore more sour about it than ever. Now, chances were he'd be _de_moted before he'd get a _pro_motion. His mind worked furiously as he was led down tunnel after putrid tunnel. Hell was bad enough _being_ a demon, since even they had their fair share of torture – it kept them in line, in Sammael's view. But to endure Hell for all eternity as just another lowly bastard in the Pit? No. He would not let them saw off his horns. Ever.

Now his fate rested in Sammael's hands, and the odds were not stacked in his favor, (were they ever if your fate was up to him?) for a number of reasons: 1) Sammael hated interruptions, as it took him away from his concubines (whom he was with at all times, so you had better have a damned good reason to interrupt his pleasures,) 2) Any time a demon was led before his throne, it always ended the same – said demon came out devoid of horns. 3) Azrael had been told that Sammael demanded an 'audience' with him. And that was _never_ a good sign.

_I'm fucking screwed_, he thought, as they continued to spiral down and down into the bowels of Hell. There were no torches, and the red glow of the Pit had long since faded away, plunging them into complete and utter darkness, but the screams of the victims overhead continued to ring in their ears. He had to think of a way to save himself. Sammael would more than likely order the removal of his horns on a whim – he probably wouldn't care less or think twice about it. Unless….he had a reason to…

Removing his sweat-soaked hat, Azrael began to fan himself, as his mind worked furiously. He had to make himself useful to Sammael, make it worth his while to spare him. Maybe he could tell the Pope to declare himself infallible? That might work… Or maybe he could inspire the Christ bitch to commit suicide? That would certainly put God in a bind, no doubt.

"You screwed up."

Azrael turned to the demon, annoyed that his thoughts had been so rudely interrupted. "Oh, _really_. I hadn't _noticed_."

"Better lose that tone friend. I'll rip out your tongue and roast it like a marshmallow. And you know Sammael will do much worse."

"Why do you care what sort of punishment I get? And why the hell do you keep calling me 'friend'!"

"Because you and I aren't so different."

"Oh, really, I hadn't noticed _that_ either," Azrael snapped.

"We both resided in Paradise once."

Azrael stopped cold. The demon stopped just ahead of him, then turned round. Azrael scrutinized him closely in the dim light.

"Who _are_ you?"

The demon's glare did not falter, but as Azrael looked at him, his image began to change. The horns melted away, and his face reconstructed itself, resulting in the most beautiful countenance Azrael had ever dared to look upon. Then, came the wings.

Azrael couldn't believe his eyes. The figure was immaculately dressed in white, and two equally immaculate wings fanned far over his head.

Azrael blinked, and instantaneously, the image disappeared, and in its place, the demon was stillglaring malevolently at him.

"_Lucifer?"_ Azrael choked.

"You may not have been an angel, but you once resided in Paradise. You, too, fell due to your insatiable pride. Be proud, and you will have that which makes you proud stripped from you. Lose it. Like in Paradise, it will not serve you here." With that, Lucifer turned on his heel and continued to stalk down the tunnel.

Azrael's jaw was almost touching his chest. Noticing that he was not following him, Lucifer turned around.

"Tardiness is not looked upon with esteem, you know," he warned. "Friend."

Azrael shut his mouth and closed the gap between them. Lucifer led on.

Azrael's mind was buzzing more than ever now. If his punishment was to be worse than Lucifer's, he would not stomach it. Before he could come up with a concrete plan to save his neck, the passageway opened up suddenly, leading them into a cavernous room that reeked of carrion. Two large torches lit the room, their white flames fluttering as Lucifer and Azrael walked past them. The walls themselves seemed to glow with their own inner fire, and everything appeared wavy, a distortion caused by the intense heat. Azrael blinked the sweat out of his eyes, as he gaped at gargantuan obsidian gates that now barred their path, towering endlessly above their heads. The scrollwork on the gates was unbelievably intricate, and every curve reflected the light of the torches, presenting the illusion that the gates were nothing but a mass of writhing serpents. Then, there were the Hounds.

Azrael couldn't help recoiling slightly upon seeing the guardians of Sammael's lair. Why they were called the 'Hounds' of Hell, he couldn't understand, because except for having four legs, they didn't remotely resemblecanines. They looked more like breathing gargoyles, carved out of the blackest glass. The massive pair of black beasts sat on their haunches on either side of the gates, their blood red eyes glinting maliciously in the eerie torchlight. As they walked toward them, the beasts stiffened, letting out growls so low one could hardly hear them. _They aren't meant to be heard_, Azrael realized, clutching his chest as he felt his sternum vibrate violently under the low decibels. Finally, when they were only a few yards away, both Hounds reared up on their hind legs, causing the ground to tremor. With earsplitting roars, they unfolded huge, black, leathery wings and proceeded to beat them, the force of which threatened to knock Azrael from his feet. He clutched his chest again, hoping to prevent his sternum from splintering beneath the pressure of the deafening roars. Their faces were angular with broad snouts, and their yawning maws were littered with jagged teeth, two of which resembled those of a saber-toothed cat. They were not slender creatures, and the construction of their bodies somewhat reminded Azrael of rhinoceri. Blunt horns protruded from their heads and curled on either side of their faces like immense ram's horns, each tip ending in a lethal-looking barb.

Two burly demons appeared on the other side of the gates, pulling back on the large chains that restrained each beast. Azrael noticed that their hides seemed to be fluttering, as if disturbed by a constant, unseen wind. When their group finally came to a halt in front of the gates, Azrael realized their hides were not made up of fur, but by an infinite number of dark flames, and each Hound radiated its own scorching heat. Even once they were calmed down and coaxed into sitting on their haunches by their masters, the beasts were easily three feet taller than Azrael. They pawed impatiently at the ground, grating deep ruts into the earth with their razor-like claws. One craned its neck and locked eyes with Azrael. The rumbling in his sternum began again and the beast's shoulder blades trembled, as if it were ready to pounce.

As the demons continued to restrict the movements of the Hounds with the chains, the gates finally swung open with a loud _clank_ing sound. Lucifer turned to Azrael.

"You'd better inspire yourself with a good excuse, Muse," he hissed, before walking through. Azrael winced slightly; being called by his former title was not a good sign. With his mind reeling, Azrael was ushered inside the gates. As a demon, Azrael had never feared anything.

Until now.

Now, he was absolutely terrified.


	2. Light Found, Darkness Abound

**This un's a shortie - sawy mates - This chapter is new, but it describes what happened when Bethany died, the 'God Revealed' scene, etc. So in essence, (in some parts) it's what we know happened, it just wasn't shown.**

**About the title - when I update created this as a separate story, I tried titling it 'Metatron's Choice 2.0', but apparently this site's software doesn't support periods in title lines, so it read 'Metatron's Choice 20'. Since I didn't want people looking around for the other 19 'Metatron's Choice's that _aren't_ out there, I had to change it to this. It may still be temp. I don't know.**

**LOTSA METATRON in the next chapter, _Chapter 3: Miracles_. If you review enough, I'll post it before the middle of December. If not, then I'll keep Chapter 3 to myself....;-)**

**Thanks to Kessie for editing!  
NOW, R&R!**

**_Chapter 2: Light Found, Darkness Abound_**.

The man gave a sudden howl and was thrust upward from the bed, as if some unseen force were pushing him from underneath. Then he collapsed back against the hospital bed, and the purest white light burst forth from his chest, with fingers of energy reaching out in all directions. She tried to get away from the beams, but she was not quick enough.

A searing pain exploded in her back, traveled through her body and erupted on the other side through her stomach. With great effort, she slid down the wall and sat down on the tile, cradling her wound. Blood immediately gushed forth, down her hands and over her fingers, spilling onto her white shirt, as the brilliant white light continued to shoot through the ceiling.

Then the pain began to lessen. She grew drowsy. Her vision grew dim. Then all was black.

Bethany knew nothing. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. Felt nothing. _Was_ nothing.

Silent Bob's head whipped around, his attention diverted from the now flowery Golgothan. The door to the room Bethany had just entered had literally exploded off its hinges. A brilliant white light was now spilling from the room.

Bob shielded his eyes as he ran into the room, slipping here and there on fragments of wood from the door. John Doe Jersey lie unmistakably dead on his hospitable bed. Then, Bob saw her.

Bob rushed over to Bethany's limp form. She had slid sideways along the wall, leaving a bloody streak from a gaping hole in her abdomen across the blue paint. The pool of blood surrounding her was rapidly expanding. Her eyes were shut tight, and her face had turned almost as white as the parts of her shirt that had not been soaked in blood. Bob took hold of one of Bethany's bloodied hands, feeling for a pulse. Finding none, Bob loosened his grip on Bethany's hand. Her arm fell awkwardly back to the linoleum floor. The soft _thud_ brought the truth sharply home.

Silent Bob began to cry, and none to silently either. After a few minutes he collected himself enough to gingerly pick her up. Rigor mortis had not set in yet, and what little blood was left in Bethany's system flowed freely from the wound and over Bob's hands. He sniffed as he hugged her to his chest, and exited the room.

Bob cautiously peered about the hallway for any trace of the Golgothan. There was none, save a solitary flower that had fallen from his form by chance.

It was a lily.

"Aw, Bartleby! Was Wisconsin, REALLY, that bad?" Metatron crooned. Bartleby fell to his knees on the stairs, a look of anguish and defeat etched upon his mortal face. Three figures knelt a few stairs down from them.

"Bow down stupid!" At Rufus' urging, Jay reluctantly groveled before the silent woman in the brown dress.

She looked at Her fallen angel sadly, as Bartleby gazed up at her with his lip trembling. Metatron watched as She lifted the fallen angel to his feet, and Bartleby looked incredulously down into Her eyes. She did not speak.

Bartleby gave a great sigh. Her penetrating eyes bored into him, and he wanted to scream. Rage he might be able to handle, but Her quiet disappointment in him was unbearable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breaths ragged. She merely blinked, as Her fallen angel fought to control his sobs.

Metatron shifted his feet as his Deity embraced the penitent Bartleby. Then he felt it.

And as soon as he did, he knew.

Metatron closed his eyes. The Last Scion was dead.


	3. Miracles

**Hello everyone! Wishing you all a (belated) MERRY CHRISTMAS!  
****  
Thanks a MILLION to PaperThinWalls, Cutie-Pie-Jordie,(I got Mesmer for Christmas! HA! jk sorry you didn't...) Annie Xcamill, JennaMoon and dynamo2005 for reviewing! Your reviews meant so much to me, because at the time I was really having a bad stretch of school. It. Was. Awful. So this chapter is my Christmas gift to you guys!!!! Thanks from the bottom of my heart!**

**Continue the reviews people! Crit is welcome too, but please, flames will be used to upgrade my pyrocitor. **

See YOU on the flip side...  
&i

A/N: I'm thinking of renaming this story 'Enlightenment'. Whatcha think?

**Metatron's Choice REVAMPED**  
Chapter 3: _Miracles_

Metatron slowly reopened his eyes. Bartleby reluctantly let go of Her as she released him from Her forgiving embrace. Her solemn countenance reflected her grief over Bethany's death and what she was about to do. She looked at Metatron and slowly nodded, as She backed up the stairs to his level. Bartleby looked at the Metatron apprehensively, who wet his lips.

"ANYONE WHO ISN'T DEAD OR FROM ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE WOULD DO WELL TO COVER THEIR EARS…RIGHT ABOUT…NOW," The Voice boomed.

"What the fuck?" As usual, Jay was completely lost. The Muse and Apostle hurriedly pulled his head to the ground, covering his ears with his Snoogans cap and their hands.

Bartleby locked eyes with his Maker.  
_  
__Thou hath been forgiven, but thou hath not escaped punishment._

He didn't so much hear Her blessed voice, but felt it, and understood. Slowly Bartleby swallowed, – his pride, his pain, and his fear. His heart was filled with relief. His former penance served, She would end him now, so he could begin a new one.

"Thank you," he uttered gratefully. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes to the approaching storm that issued from Her mouth.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Silent Bob shuffled aimlessly along the sidewalk, cradling the lifeless Bethany in his arms. All seemed eerily quiet, just as it had been in the hospital. All the panicking people were gone, the sidewalks vacant.

Bob stopped walking as the hair on the back of his neck began to rise, sending innumerable shivers down his spine to his toes. A silent wind ran its tremulous fingers through nearby trees, but the rustling of leaves could not be heard. Another sound reached Bob's ears instead.

A low rumble bounced off the buildings on either side of the street. It quickly doubled in intensity, an oddly mixed cacophony of reverberations that sent tremors underfoot. Bob squinted and did a double take; did he just see the asphalt _ripple?_

The invisible shockwave hit Bob like a ton of bricks. He planted his feet, clutching Bethany's body to him. His head began to pound, and the pain soon developed into the worst migraine he'd ever had. His chest was constricting as well. The Bob put two and two together.

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Bob fell to his knees and let Bethany's corpse roll to the sidewalk. The pressure inside his head had built to almost non-endurance when his hands finally reached his ears to blot out the roar.

After what seemed to _easily _be an eternity, the ground stopped quaking, and Bob felt both the pain in his head and the tense vibrations in his chest lessen.

Slowly Bob let his hands fall to his sides. Another gentle breeze ruffled his hair and loosed a few strands of Bethany's hair from behind her ear. They blew gracefully across her peacefully stilled features, and Bob clamped his eyes shut to keep them from stinging with tears again. He sniffed as he drew himself to his feet, then picked Bethany up once more, and continued to make his way back to St. Michael's.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"You missed a bit," the Voice grumbled after his Deity, as She finished whisking away what was left of Bartleby and the rest of the blood off the street in front of St. Michael's. Metatron then turned to the two ethereals behind him.

"Well then. Are you ready to go back Apostle?" he asked, hands on his hips.

"You ready to make some of those changes I been talkin' bout?" Rufus countered.

Metatron paused. "We'll see."

Rufus rolled his eyes as Metatron turned to address the other ethereal.

"Muse?" he asked lazily. Serendipity snapped out of her reverie and stared at him.

"Seeing how you just HAD to get involved, you're welcome to return with us as well," Metatron said tersely.

"First I gotta say goodbye to Bethany. Where is she?"

Metatron knew full well where the Last Scion was, and was not at all surprised when Rufus whispered, "Oh no…"

Metatron looked at him, then followed his gaze past the gates of the church. He pursed his lips. There she was.

The red-faced Prophet was trudging up the sidewalk, carrying the body of the Last Scion in his arms. Her shirt was drenched in blood, as were the Prophet's hands.

Metatron removed his hands from his pockets and moved out of the way as Silent Bob awkwardly knelt on the steps and relieved himself of his burden. He placed a feeble hand on Bethany's shoulder as he looked to Metatron questioningly. The Muse put a voice to his thoughts, although he, like the Metatron, already knew the answer to her question.

"Metatron, is she…?" Serendipity trailed off as the three ethereals crouched before Bethany. Rufus just shook his head in disbelief.

"'Fraid so," Metatron said coolly. "One of the drawbacks of being a martyr is that you have to die." Serendipity looked at him oddly. "But no matter," Metatron continued, looking over the Prophet.

Silent Bob felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the face of an attractive woman in a shining outfit. He was calmed by Her presence, and with one final look at Bethany, he let go of her shoulder, letting her roll onto her back as the mysterious woman knelt in his place.

"All is being taken care of," Metatron said reassuringly. Rufus was still silent as Serendipity shook her head.

"How so?" she asked slowly. Metatron's head shot up to look at her, then he straightened up as he raised his hands over Bethany's abdomen.

"Wax on, wax off," he said matter-of-factly. Then he raised his hands to Her. She clapped Her hands together and rubbed them vigorously, then placed both on the Last Scion's wound. Metatron watched. He knew what was happening, but just the same, he was in awe of Her power. He gazed down at Bethany, as a breeze blew over them all.

Almost instantly, Metatron felt life coming back into Bethany's body. He could hear her heart beating within her chest. An invisible, radiating shockwave of warmth exploded from Bethany's body as she drew her first breath, and Metatron could feel the sheer power of his Deity encircling his own entity, sending sensations up and down his spine. She drew back as Bethany quickly sat up, coughing as if she were trying to bring up a lung through her trachea. Realizing she was not alone, Bethany looked to her left and flinched upon seeing the Muse, Rufus, and the Voice.

"How did I…?" she stammered, looking down at her stomach where a gruesome wound should have been. The blood, the pain,...death…it was all gone.

"She can rebuild you, She has the technology, She can make you better, stronger, _faster," _Metatron said, as he stared unblinkingly at her. Bethany tore her gaze away from him and looked up at a smiling woman in a shining corset and jacket. The woman nodded to her, then gingerly stepped over a row of flowers next to the church steps. Metatron cocked his head as he continued to look at Bethany, and finally, she found her voice again.

"That's…?" she asked, nodding toward the woman, who had now stopped to smell the flowers. She was crouching down, and gently stuck her head amid the blossoms, as if she had never before smelled a flower. Looking over his shoulder, Metatron followed Bethany's gaze and nodded.

"A very, relieved deity," he answered. Then he smiled widely, as he pulled himself to his feet, bending down to grasp Bethany's hands to pull her up with him. Bethany took his hands, but remained transfixed by Her.

"You did well old girl," the Voice said warmly. "I knew you'd come round. Your kind…always does." Bethany smiled as Metatron went on.

"You'd best take good care of yourself. We're going to need you, down the road," he said, supporting her shoulders as he brushed a leaf off the back of her shirt.

The tingling sensation had dulled slightly since Bethany's first breath, but now Metatron felt it grow stronger once more. Although his Deity gave the impression of being preoccupied with an attempted handstand, She knew what was going on.

_The time hath come. >_ She told Her Voice inside his head.

_You never told me how you would reward her.> _Metatron said.

_Her reward is yours to award, Enoch. >_

Metatron was startled at Her use of his former name, but hastily ignored it.

_Mine? >_Metatron could not see Her face, but She was smiling inwardly.

Only a millisecond had passed with their unheard words, and Bethany, unknowingly, brought Metatron back to reality.

"I know," she was saying. "I'm the Last Scion," she added proudly. Her words made Metatron realize what his Deity was asking of him. Quickly Metatron looked up to Her. His heart was pounding at a speed he knew could not be healthy, and his mouth had gone dry.

_You cannot mean…> _Metatron thought, but the tingling warmth radiated from deep within his body, and all of his icy doubts were chased away. He shifted his feet and let his hand fall from her shoulder.

"Well," he began, addressing Bethany once more, "you're half right. You **_were_**, the Last Scion," he said meaningfully, biting his bottom lip in anticipation of what he was about to do. "Now…" he paused. He could see the perplexity on Bethany's face, as he looked down at his own hand. He steadily brought it up to Bethany's stomach, and then fanned out his fingers as he ran them down to her lower abdomen. Metatron felt the warm power emanating from his body pass to Bethany, thereby imparting to her the greatest gift of all.

_By the power of the Most High, I, the Metatron, Voice of the One true God, award to you, Bethany Sloane, the greatest gift I can give,_ he said silently.

"**_This_**," Metatron said softly, and he gently squeezed Bethany's abdomen. Metatron gasped inwardly when he felt a miniscule heart beating steadily within her womb in response to his touch. He'd done it.

"…is the Last Scion," he whispered. Bethany silently gasped as she continued to stare straight ahead. Metatron relaxed his hand against her stomach as Bethany brought up her hands to hold his. She absently stroked the back of his hand as she gulped back tears.

"I'm…_pregnant?_" she stammered. Metatron's face broke into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to look at her better. She _was_ perceptive.

"Can't put anything past you," Metatron said warmly. Tears ran unchecked down Bethany's red cheeks, as she watched God lose her balance and fall clumsily from her handstand to the ground. Metatron hesitantly went on.

"Take care of that parcel for us," he said. That was as close as he could come to telling her the child growing inside her was his; he had wanted to say, 'take care of her, for us both,' but that would be too risky. "She has a world of work ahead of her," he finished.

But Bethany was intently watching God ascend the stairs towards the church doors. She had to say something…

Bethany let go of Metatron's hand and stepped away from him, trudging on the fallen form of Jay as she quickly went after God. Metatron stared after her.

He hadn't wanted her to break the connection. It would probably be the closest he would ever come to actually holding the life he helped create. God might allow him to be there, unseen, at her birth, but, other than that, he would have to watch them both from afar.

But the fact that by the grace of God, _he, _an angel incapable of procreation, had fathered a child was a miracle. And the miracle was the Last Scion, no less. The Last Scion. His child. His and Bethany's daughter. Theirs. Metatron almost burst with infinite pride.

Silent Bob helped a stirring Jay to his feet, who inquired about his bloodied hands, as Metatron ascended the stairs behind Bethany. God tweaked her nose with a smirk. Metatron snickered.

"Didn't I tell you she was funny?" he kidded, playfully bumping into her with his shoulder. She looked at him for a moment, then laughed with him.

Bethany stopped laughing however, when Metatron climbed the remaining steps and strode inside the doors to join his Deity. Bethany's eyes threatened to spill a new torrent of tears; the crusade was over.

"I'm glad I got to meet you." Serendipity said, coming up the stairs to Bethany's level. "It was an honor!" she said smiling, and the two embraced. Before joining the Metatron and God in the church, the Muse turned, with a smug look on her face.

"I _told_ you She was a woman," she said. Bethany smiled as she watched Serendipity walk through the doors and stand to Metatron's left.

"She's not _really_ a _woman._ She's not really _anything_," Rufus argued.

"She's something all right," Bethany murmured, not taking her eyes off the doors.

"Crisis of faith over?" Rufus pressed.

"I think I'm now burdened with an over-abundance," Bethany smirked, turning to face him. Rufus nodded.

"When it rains, it pours. Are you saying you believe?"

Bethany shook her head, to Rufus' surprise.

"No," she said. "But I have a good _idea,_" she said simply, poking him in the chest.

"Yesss," Rufus said proudly, giving her a hug. When they broke apart, the Apostle looked at her seriously.

"The Man was right about you. Now I'm gonna go home and tell Him so." Then he turned to the Prophets. "And if ya'll clean up your language, I _just_ might put in a good word for you, too."

Bob and Jay looked at each other. "Thanks!" Silent Bob said gratefully, earning him a smack from Jay. Rufus turned back to Bethany.

"Why dontcha name the kid after me?" he smirked. Bethany cracked up as the Apostle stepped past her and into the church.

"Rufus," Bethany mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Rufus stood next to God. He held out his fist, then She made one, and smacked it on top of his, and the Apostle followed suit. Jay and Silent Bob watched in awe as the two mimicked their handshake.

Tears dribbled down Bethany's face, as she slowly raised her hand to bid farewell to them all.

_Goodbye…_she thought to herself solemnly. _Bye Rufus, Serendipity, God…goodbye Metatron._

Metatron raised his hand above Her head in one final wave as swirling smoke obscured them all. He could feel Bethany's panic.

_Please don't leave me alone…_

Just as the doors were about to close, Bethany heard, or more like, felt, Metatron inside her head.

_You will never be alone lass. We shall always be watching. __**I,** will always be…_

As if in a race against time, Metatron's final word squeaked past St. Michael's double doors before they closed with a loud _thwump_, reaching Bethany to echo in her heart.

_…watching._

**Thanks to Crystal for editing this chap! Luv you! ;-D**

**Coming soon, Chapter 4: Sammael**


	4. Sammael

**Hello all. I had a few problems with updating my profile, so I'll let that go for now. I've been really sick as of late, and hope you will forgive this chapter's lateness and brevity. In this chapter, the plot, erm, shall we say, _thickens?_ You decide. RR people. Please.**

**Chapter 5 and 6 are forthcoming, and I promise not to take as long as I did withChapter 4. But hey, I was ill.**

**Oh, and be forewarned: In a few weeks, I'll be changing the title of this fic to 'ENLIGHTENMENT', so don't forget that when you want to find it. **

Happy reading-_ mrs-alan-rickman3_ a.k.a. "Captain"

**Chapter 4: Sammael.**

"Wait here," a demon ordered. Azrael did as he was told. Lucifer had disappeared as well, but not before giving the Muse some advice.

"You're already in deep shit, friend. Lying will only dig you deeper." Then he was gone.

Alone, Azrael fidgeted, crumpling his hat with his trembling hands as sweat continued to run down his face, neck and back. He had been left, for what seemed like hours now, to stew (both mentally and physically), in the dim light of a cavernous room.

Dark shadows seeped into the center of the room, and as Azrael stood there, they seemed to be extending, like dark fingers that were just itching to throttle him. The minutes ticked by, and Azrael looked somewhat nervously around him. He shivered slightly, despite the oppressive heat: the room was absolutely crawling with unseen demons.

The few flames in the room shuddered and then went out. The temperature in the room plummeted at a mind-boggling rate with the ensuing darkness. Sammael had come.

_Ok, come on Azrael, think of something, quick,_ he thought to himself, ignoring Lucifer's advice not to lie. Azrael shifted his weight to his other leg as he fought to come up with a plan in the icy blackness.

Hushed whispers in tongues swirled around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere concurrently. Something icy and scaly brushed the back of Azrael's neck, and he instinctively spun around to face the way he'd come in. The hushed whispers had increased in volume and intensity, and Azrael focused on a spot in front of him, sure that Sammael would make himself known.

Something ice cold grabbed Azrael by the neck from behind, heaved him high into the infinite expanse of the ceiling, and threw him forcefully against the rock wall. Azrael felt the stone crack behind him with the force before falling several seconds back to the floor. But he never made impact.

Several pairs of invisible hands roughly grabbed him and held him horizontally a few feet above the floor. Azrael wildly looked about in the darkness, somewhat glad he couldn't see: the faces of demons in their true form would haunt any mortal for life.

Then Azrael felt his legs grow hot, and he smelled burning flesh. A black pyre had lit itself beneath him, and Azrael cried out in agony as the flames began to lick at his back, the acrid smell filling his nostrils.

"Speak…" an icy voice demanded. Its echo was all around Azrael, but he could not locate the source. He screamed in pain as the flames completely ate away at his suit, consuming his bare skin in turn.

Suddenly the hands dropped him, and Azrael fell to the floor, squealing in agony as he tried to alleviate the pain in his legs, which had been burnt down to the very bone.

"Stand up fool!"

"I can't," Azrael breathed through gritted teeth. The air in front of Azrael's face shifted, and an icy hand backhanded him roughly across the jaw, sending him flying into the furthest wall once more.

_Let me die…_Azrael thought to himself. He knew that, whilst in Hell, Sammael was the only one who possessed the power to destroy a demon. But Sammael was making it painfully clear that death was a luxury Azrael was not going to experience any time soon. He winced as he snapped his jaw back into its rightful place with a _crunch_. He could smell that his legs were still smoldering, and knew that without his tendons and ligaments, his femurs, tibias and fibulas alone would not support his weight.

"Stand up." It was as if Sammael had read his thoughts and asked him to do the impossible just because it _was_ impossible. Then it hit him: he had probably done just that. Azrael didn't move.

In response to his defiance, the rough 'hands' of Sammael's demons heaved Azrael off the floor and forced him into a standing position. The whole experience was completely unnerving, as Azrael could see nothing of what was being done to him. He could actually hear his kneecaps grinding without their protective cartilage.

"YOU TOOK ON THE THRONE WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE?" the voice boomed with tangible anger, splintering the black silence.

"No," Azrael said truthfully. He was going to bypass the Throne as it were. Well, he'd intended to, until he had been foiled. _Damned Christ bitch._

"By simply _attempting_ to end existence, you have done enough damage. Release him," Sammael said sharply. Azrael expected to fall to the ground due to his injured legs, but he remained standing as the demons' grips faded away. He knew he was healed, although he could not see in the blackness. The pain was gone.

"Obviously," Sammael's voice cut the air as he continued, "you have failed in said endeavor, as your worthless piece of flesh stands before me. But not only have you failed, Muse," he sneered, and Azrael could feel his frosty breath inches from his nose. "You have made my situation far worse than you can possibly fathom."

At his last words, a brilliant light exploded before Azrael's eyes in the darkness. Sammael continued.

"Not only has ourinside aidrepented and been Saved," Sammael growled, "but you have helped accelerate _this._"

The brilliant light in front of Azrael changed shape, morphing into several figures. The blurred images began to move, and Azrael recognized the two figures that came into focus first. _Scion and Voice. _The Apostle and Muse were smiling behind them. Then the image began to move, and Azrael could hear their voices.

_'"This…is, the Last Scion."' _Metatron was saying, holding the Scion's abdomen. Azrael panicked. _Oh no…_

_'"I'm…pregnant?"' _the Scion whispered. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the images were gone, and the room was plunged into darkness once more.

"This could mean the end of us. This next Scion may truly be the Last. The Last, before – "

"Judgment Day," Azrael breathed, cutting Sammael off.

"Do NOT interrupt me Muse," the voice warned. "If it is so, you have accelerated that which I have feared since my fall from His 'beloved Grace', thereby compromising our position in this war."

Azrael fought his panic. If what they feared was true, the birth of the Christ bitch's child could initiate the End of Days, and the _punishers_ would stand before the Throne and become the punish_ed_. For eternity.

"This cannot happen, much less before I ascend the Throne," Sammael hissed, reading Azrael's thoughts. "The One bloodline must be severed, the grail that holds the blood of Christ upset."

Azrael looked up from the floor. Sammael's eyes alone materialized before Azrael, reptilian orbs of fiery red.

"I am giving you a task as penance, Muse. If you succeed, I shall lessen the agony of your demise," Sammael uttered, the glowing eyes narrowing. Azrael stood straight looking deep into the bottomless fires of Satan's eyes. His disembodied words echoed off the vaulted stone ceiling.

"Destroy the Scions."

**Thanks to Crystal and Kessie for editing these chapters!**


	5. Up in Heaven

**Minor note: I TRIED to post three different times yesterday (May 31) as promised, but I kept getting the message 'HP SERVER ERROR - INVALID URL' so I couldn't update. Hey, I was ready, but the site had other plans. :(**

**Hey folks! Miss me? As almost every one of my chapters begins, let me say how very sorry I am for not updating sooner...you'll get over it. Senior year of high school is not as lax as everyone says it is. Anyhow, every chance I got, I sought to improve what I've already written; only after all my exams were over did I have the chance to write anything new. Chapters 6, 7, and 8 will be up very very soon: I'm shooting for at least one of them to be up by mid-June. Please stay tuned.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing except the plot - if you steal it, you better pray I don't find you.

* * *

**

**Enlightenment**

Chapter 5: _Up in Heaven…_

Slowly Metatron raised his right hand over Her head in one final wave as the swirling smoke obscured them all. Bethany's scared thoughts echoed in his head.

_Please don't leave me alone…_

Metatron supposed that he should have run out the doors and embraced her to comfort her, but it was not necessary. She had nothing to worry about.

_You will never be alone lass. We shall always be watching, _Metatron said softly in Bethany's head. Then, as an afterthought,

_**I, **will always be, watching._

Metatron felt Bethany relax slightly, as the church doors closed. Before they knew it, they were back to the kingdom of Heaven among the clouds.

"Sure feels great to be back," Rufus said with a sigh, and he snapped his fingers. His coat and Mooby uniform vanished, to be replaced by a white hoodie. Metatron shot him a fierce look.

"Alright, _alright_," Rufus muttered, and snapping his fingers again, the hood disappeared.

Serendipity grinned smugly, looking about her.

"So you _finally_ took my 'advice' and did some remodeling eh?" she said to God with a smile. "While I wasn't _here,_ I might add…"

God turned to Metatron, relaying Her answer telepathically. Even with ethereals, Muses in particular, God never used Her own voice. Since all of the knowledge in the world resounded in Her voice, if She _ever _spoke to a Muse, said Muse would not be able to contain all that information. They would be compelled to inspire someone, and after being Enlightened by God Herself, anyone who received that truly Divine inspiration would be committing a crime similar to Eve's eating of the Forbidden Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in Eden. God could not, and _would_ not, take that risk.

Metatron smirked as his deity silently replied to Serendipity's remark.

"Yes, we have 'remodeled'," he said. "But She would like to remind you that the pearly gates were _Her _idea."

"Of course," Serendipity smiled, winking at Rufus as they followed God through the gates. The seraphim guards posted at the entrance resembled statues as their boss glided past. The gates closed behind them, and God disappeared.

"Not skeeball _again_ I hope," Metatron muttered as their group dispersed, leaving him by himself. Good. He felt like being alone for a while.

Metatron blinked himself to his own private realm amongst the clouds and stars. He had much to write down. As chief scribe of Heaven and writer of Truth, Metatron recorded every single occurrence since his own creation.

Metatron sat down between two towering thunderheads that patrolled a night sky. He laughed to himself at the irony of his position: he was the leader of all the Seraphim, and held the most important position among them and all other angels, yet in actuality, he was the youngest angel among the choirs. Unlike the majority of angels, he had been human once. Metatron could scarcely remember his mortal existence on earth. He knew, as the mortal Enoch, he'd had a wife and several sons and daughters, but he had no idea what their names were, what they were like, or even how _many_ children he'd had. He only knew this information as _fact,_ not necessarily as remembered _memories_.

One day, later in his mortal life, several of God's angels descended to the earth, and proceeded to wreak havoc. They lusted after and mated with human females, creating a race of giants, known as Nephilim, the likes of which the human race had never seen. (This little incident explained why angels henceforth were as 'anatomically impaired as a Ken doll'.) The fallen angels taught the humans how to make weapons, introducing them to war; they taught the women the 'magic' of cosmetics, thus implementing vanity. Their list of crimes went on and on, and God was furious. Metatron knew that those around him had known him as Enoch the prophet and scribe, and when God sought vengeance on Her angels, the defendants pleaded with Enoch to represent them. He agreed, and the archangels descended to earth to bring him before God. Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel gave him a 'tour' as it were of the heavenly levels (all seven of them). He had even glimpsed Hell, which was located in the third level of Heaven.

Not long after, the antediluvian Enoch had been brought up to Heaven for good, but not as the dead. The angels brought him up alive, and at God's bidding, anointed his whole body with chrism whilst saying prayers. From that moment on, he was no longer Enoch, but Metatron, scribe of the Heavenly Host, Herald to the Almighty, and Voice of the One true God. And so it would be, for eternity.

Metatron closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. A book appeared open on his lap. It was time to record some rather important events.

The book lay open to a clean page, and Metatron ran his finger along it. His finger left behind a trail of shining script, as he began to document Azrael's plight, Bartleby and Loki's flight from Wisconsin, Bethany's involvement (referred to as 'the Scion') and so forth. Finally, he came to God's release from the body of John Doe Jersey, and the events of only minutes ago. Metatron smiled as he recounted the event he'd taken part in.

_…and I, the Metatron, then received the greatest gift from my Most High: the ability to make life. I imparted this gift to the Scion, thereby impregnating her with a child._

Metatron recalled what She had said to him before he'd done it: _Her reward is yours to award, Enoch._ He wondered what She had meant by using his former name…

Metatron finished updating his records, reaching the end of the page he'd started out on. Once a page was turned in the book of life, the events of that page were in fact _history_, and therefore, unalterable. For this reason, not even Metatron could return to a page he'd recorded previously; it would be the equivalent of 'turning back time'. Seeing that Metatron was omnipotent, the 'updating' of his records was actually just him remembering things as they happened. But his omnipotence depended on Her; if there was something She didn't wish him to know, it could be kept from him. Omnipotence was a great gift She bestowed upon Her angels, but it was also something She could deny them.

Metatron exhaled slowly as he turned the page he'd completed. His work finished, Metatron closed the book and snapped his fingers to return it from whence it came. He sat in silent reflection, visually getting lost in the expanse of stars that stretched out before him. All was blissfully peaceful. Then…

"What do you want Muse?" Metatron asked exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Serendipity materialized out of nowhere.

"Did you already do it?"

"Go away," Metatron said, ignoring her question.

"I ALWAYS miss it!"

"Are you deaf?"

"Why?"

"Thought so," Metatron muttered to himself as he stood up. "I'll repeat myself for you: Go. Away."

"What's wrong?" Serendipity asked sweetly. Metatron knew she asked only to bug him.

"EVERYTHING," Metatron snapped, closing his eyes as he unfolded his wings to their full span (nearly 8 feet). He chuckled to himself as he remembered the look on Bethany's face, her eyes wide with wonder and awe, when he had unfurled them in her bedroom only days before.

"I didn't mean what was wrong with the WORLD; I meant what's wrong with you," the Muse said calmly. It was true that the Metatron was irritable 110 of the time, (and no one but the Muse was ever foolish enough to incite his mordant wrath upon themselves; _she_ thought it was absolutely hilarious) but he seemed to be in an even fouler mood than usual.

"I _knew_ what you meant," Metatron retorted, glaring at her. "I am _omnipotent_ you know." Serendipity rolled her eyes. "Besides," he continued, "not everything is wrong with the world." He thought of the child he'd helped bring into existence, now growing in Bethany's womb. A truly warm smile spread across his features, and it did not go unnoticed by Serendipity.

_I could visit her, check on her,_ he thought to himself. _No, the crusade is over. No more unnecessary interference…_ Metatron was now battling what he believed to be his conscience. _Go on, she'll appreciate it…_

"NO!" Metatron shouted, and all of Heaven shook with his anger, and a 5.1 earthquake hit Los Angeles. "Don't meddle with my mind Muse," he warned.

"Evidently, I seem to be meddling with something other than your _mind_," Serendipity muttered. Metatron opened his mouth to retort, but Serendipity cut him off. "What's so wrong with going? You know you're allowed to, _especially_ in Bethany's case," she remarked, somewhat happy with herself for making the Voice of God uncomfortable.

Metatron closed his mouth slowly. "Bethany proved she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself," he said ambiguously in a quiet voice, folding his wings.

"Of course she is," Serendipity said, not looking at him.

"What does that mean?" Metatron spat, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't _know_?" Serendipity answered. "Did it ever occur to you, you who are supposed to be _omnipotent_," she said, ignoring his glare, "that maybe she wants – and certainly needs – someone to take care of her? Maybe she wants someone to – "

"Why don't you go…inspire somebody," Metatron said angrily, his voice dripping with his normal sarcasm.

"I'm trying to, but you're not letting me," Serendipity said softly.

"Well then, why don't you go inspire that Rowling woman to finish her damned book so it can be published and bring happiness to millions of readers?" he said, acting as if he hadn't heard her last statement.

"I _have_," Serendipity answered annoyedly. "And it's not just _a _book. She's writing seven of them. Seven! She really runs with my ideas; it's taking her FOREVER."

"Funny, that is _exactly_ the amount of time it's taking you to realize I'd like to be alone," Metatron said coldly.

Finally, the Muse wordlessly turned on her heel and left him to his thoughts. Metatron sighed. He was thankful that the Muse had no idea that he'd impregnated Bethany; it would only strengthen her argument.

Metatron thought hard for a moment. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, (much less _her_,) Serendipity, insufferable though she was, actually had a point this time.

**R&R please! More to come really soon...**


	6. Azrael and Lucy

**Oy, I thought you people'd _never_ get here.  
So, okay,as promised, here is Chapter 6. If you want to check the status of future chapters, go to The Viper Room, my space on MSN Spaces. See my profile for the URL.**

Thanks a MILLION to Cutie-Pie-Jordie for reviewing! ;-) The chapters with Metatron are coming, I promise you my friend!

Without further ado, Chapter 6.

_**Enlightenment **_

Chapter 6: **Azrael and Lucy**

Azrael wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell of burning flesh as he stoked the fire beneath the nearest offender. The fire leapt higher, and the person (their gender was unrecognizable due to the severity of the burns,) shrieked anew as the flames ate away at their exposed muscles and tissues. Layers of fat hissed and popped as the flames hungrily devoured all that they touched. In other places, muscles, tissues and fat were completely burned away, leaving nothing but fragile wisps of ash, curling away from their scorched bones. When the person was (literally) burnt to a crisp, Azrael placed a forefinger on his sternum – the offender's flesh began to rebuild itself, the cartilage, tendons, ligaments, fat, muscles and finally the epidermis all reattached itself to the skeletal remains, until the offender was completely healed. And then Azrael stoked the fires again, as the offender shrieked and howled as flames scorched their flesh anew.  
Yes, stoking the fires in the Pit was better than being tortured by them, to be sure, but it had felt like an eternity since he'd talked with Sammael. Lucifer wouldn't tell him anything. After his audience with the Prince of Darkness, he'd led Azrael back up to the Pit and told him to get to work. All Azrael could make of it was Sammael was making some sort of arrangements for him to go topside to fulfill his penance.

Azrael wiped burning sweat from his brow before it dripped into his eyes, as a hand slapped his shoulder.

"The time has come. Let's go," Lucifer ordered. Azrael dropped his pitchfork and weaved through the burning stacks of bodies as Lucifer led the way up and out of the Pit. A million questions flooded his mind, all of which he ignored: he wasn't about to give Lucifer the satisfaction of asking a question he probably knew the answer to.

Lucifer led Azrael up a spiraling stone stair, and Azrael silently rejoiced in the cooler air away from the fires. Finally, they reached the rim of the Pit, and began the long winding journey to the outskirts of Hell.

They walked in silence for a time, before, to Azrael's surprise, Lucifer spoke.

"If you fail – "

"Yeah yeah I know. I'll be stuck on Earth with no dick until the end of eternity, just like my two puppets were going to be – "

"Not quite so lucky are you," Lucifer cut him off. Azrael shot him a look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sammael will have your horns when you return," Lucifer said simply.

"Then I won't fail," Azrael snapped.

"You don't get it do you?" Lucifer asked disbelievingly. "Sammael will have your horns either way. You're only alive with horns now _because_ he has an errand to run, and you're his boy. If you _succeed_, you'll be stripped of your horns. If you fail, you'll be stripped of your horns _and _thrown in the Pit for longer than eternity."

Azrael was seething. "If I lose either way, then why the FUCK am I bothering to do this – !" he spat, stopping in the middle of the tunnel. Lucifer spun around, made a fist, and thrust it, literally, up to his elbow down Azrael's throat.

"Because _you_ don't have a choice, now, _do _you?" he whispered. Azrael gagged, attempting to glare at Lucifer. Lucifer laughed in his face, then withdrew his fist with a wet sucking sound. Azrael coughed and hacked as Lucifer walked on, whispering something that sounded remotely familiar. Then he addressed Azrael over his shoulder.

"Keep up bitch, we're almost to Styx. Don't want to keep Charon waiting now do we?"

* * *

_THUD. _

What the FUCK – !

Azrael opened his eyes. Asphalt stared him in the face.

_Just great_. Azrael picked himself up, or rather, tried to.

Pain unlike anything he'd ever known radiated up and down the ventral side of his body. It was somehow different than the tremor Sammael had inflicted. This pain felt more…

"Feelin' human yet?" a voice asked, somewhat patronizingly. However, given his present state, Azrael would've thought _anyone_ sounded patronizing.

Azrael slowly rolled onto his back, blinking at whatever light source was above him; was it the sun? His sight wasn't so keen anymore. Then he recognized the voice and groaned.

"You _again_," he grumbled, finding it hard to form words. Azrael reached into his mouth with an index and probed, only to pull out a bloodied finger.

"Yes, me _**again**_, and seeing as I _am_ your superior, you will not address me as 'you'. I'd appreciate it greatly if you learned this sooner rather than later," Lucifer said in a steely voice.

"What would you have me call you? Lucy?" Azrael asked sweetly.

"Smartass."

"Arrogant bastard."

"Human."

"Fuck off," Azrael snapped. Then he paused, letting Lucifer's insult sink in as he half-sat up. He didn't bother to take in his surroundings just yet; he had to straighten something out first.

"I'm…_human?_" Azrael spat incredulously.

"Duh."

"Wait one fucking _second_!" Azrael said quickly. "I _fell_?" he asked. "No, no I couldn't have 'fallen' like that…I fell eons ago," he muttered, and Lucifer detected an odd mix of emotions behind his words, emotions he'd never felt: humility, and remorse. Must be the human in him.

"So, Sammael fucking _dropped_ me?"Azrael asked angrily, looking upwards, trying to see past the sun and the crystalline sky.

"You can look at it that way if you want to," Lucifer answered.

"Yeah, well, the _pain_ is seeing it that way Captain Obvious."

"Human."

"Shut up!" Azrael grumbled. "How could I have survived the fall if I'm _human_, eh?" he asked.

"You fell as an entity before Sammael allowed you to coalesce into a physical being about five seconds before you hit," Lucifer answered simply.

Azrael stared at him, nodding vaguely. "Good to know," he muttered, resting his head on his knees as he tried to think. His brain was processing at the speed of a fat person attempting to 'run' through chest-high water in concrete shoes. Obviously a lot slower than what he was used to.

"Alright," he sighed, as the pain finally began to ebb away. "I know what my…my mission is –"

"Well that's a step in the right direction – "

" – question is where am I, why am I here – "

"You're starting to sound like a Catholic – " Lucifer mused.

" – and – " Azrael stopped. "Why the hell are you _here_ anyway?" he demanded.

"I _told_ you not to call me – "

"Lucy."

"Human."

"ALRIGHT!" Azrael's anger gave him the adrenaline he needed to stand up. He wavered slightly, but maintained his balance and reconnoitered.

He was now standing in the middle of the street in front of the house he'd 'operated' from with the Stygian Triplets the other day. The only difference was, there _was_ no house.

"Yes there is."

Azrael turned to glare at Lucifer. "Would you please _not_ do that!" he roared. Having your thoughts read was very unnerving. "Fine. If there's a house there, _why_ can't I see it?"

"Because you're – now take it easy – because you're human. Humans only see a piece of ground where a house _used_ to stand. They don't necessarily _remember_ it being torn down, but they're too busy to dwell on such things, now, aren't they?"

"So, you're telling me there _is_ something there?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"A hot spot."

"Really."

"Yes."

Azrael thought hard for a moment. To use a hot spot, you either had to A) be from hell, B) use an _instrument_ from hell to open it, or C) speak an incantation, a password, to activate it. Azrael's only viable option at this point was C, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the incantation.

Then he rememberedoption D: obtain entry with the aid of one to whom options A through C pertain.

Of course, Lucifer was already aware of this, and had begun making his way across the (to Azrael, the 'seemingly empty') lawn. Azrael walked to catch up with him, as the house materialized before his eyes. Reaching the front door, he stepped inside to find everything as he'd left it, save for the fact that the central air was no longer running. The heat was instead.

Azrael's fingertips were millimeters from the thermostat when tiny blue bolts of electricity sprang out to meet them.

"Ow, shit!" Azrael cursed.

"Let it be." Lucifer's voice came from the living room.

"You _like_ the heat?" Azrael asked incredulously.

"No. I _love _it."

Jesus he was obstinate. "Fine. Whatever. Now, would you tell me why the – " Azrael began as he sat down in a chair. Then, much to his chagrin, henoticed he was wearing an _extremely_ lurid hot pink shirt, and he finished his sentence.

" – fuck am I wearing a PINK shirt!" he wailed, attempting to read upside down whatever idiotic message was stamped on it. Azrael grabbed it in disgust and held the messaged portion up so Lucifer could see.

"'Tough Guys Wear Pink'!" Azrael glanced up at Lucifer and was shocked into silence. His eyes had finally adjusted, and this was the first time he'd actually _looked_ at Lucifer, who now looked as human as he: his skull actually had flesh on it.

"If I were you," Lucifer said, ignoring Azrael's dumbfounded stare, "which, thankfully, I'm _not_, I'd be honored to think that Sammael thought enough of _me_ to allow me to call myself 'Tough Guy'," he sneered.

"You know what? I like your sarcasm about as much as this fucking shirt!"

"So the feeling's mutual then," Lucifer said evenly. It was amazing how nothing seemed to make him bristle. He was always…cool.

Azrael stared hard at Lucifer's countenance for a moment. Did he recognize the face?…yes, he did…whose…?

"Jesus Christ – why'd you pick _that_ one?" Azrael asked, as he fully recognized Lucifer's face.

"Better than your face isn't it?"

Azrael sighed. He might as well talk to a brick wall, then slam his head against it.

"Will you tell me why you're here? Please?" he asked tiredly.

"Certainly. I am your go-between. Sammael is still seething over your double-cross – "

"If it'd worked it'd have been beneficial to _all_ of us," Azrael muttered.

"Yes, but it _didn't _work, now did it?" Lucifer reminded him. "Hold your tongue human. As I was saying, Sammael doesn't quite trust you enough to leave you all by your lonesome. So periodically I shall be checking your progress."

"Oh, _joy_," Azrael grumbled.

"Well, _I'm_ not doing any Snoopy dances over here, so you can bet your miserable excuse for a life that it wasn't _me_ who suggested the idea," Lucifer spat.

"Uh-huh, yeah, I'll do that," Azrael said offhandedly. He had begun to squirm in his chair.

"Ants in the pants?" Lucifer asked.

"I think I have...to pee," Azrael said slowly. Then something dawned on him...he was human now. He jumped up and began to unzip his jeans.

"Not _here_ you idiot!"

Azrael wasn't paying any attention as he opened his fly.

"Holy SHIT!"

**Please R&R folks - I'll keep the next few chapters (which have _a lot_ of new Metatron material in them) to myself if you don't! **


	7. Homeward Bound, Part I

**Thanks a _bunch_ to a true Rickmaniac: Marlina, thanks again for reviewing!  
Chapter 8: _You Can't Always Get What You Want_, coming up in about a week.**

**_Enlightenment  
_Chapter 7: Homeward Bound, Part I**

The sound of the large double doors closing resounded with a finality that failed to bring Bethany back to reality.

Silence.

She stood outside St. Michael's, silently staring at its closed doors as she tried to grasp the sad fact that the ethereals were gone.

With tears lingering in her eyes, she absently turned to face Jay and Silent Bob, who had seated themselves on the now clean stone steps of the cathedral.

"Yo we shoulda made a quick stop," Jay said eagerly. Bob nodded vacantly as he watched Bethany sit down beside them. She shrugged her shoulders, matching Bob's yielding expression, and sat clutching her knees. Finally Jay broke the silence.

"Wanna hear something sick? I got half a stock when that bitch kissed me!" he said excitedly, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. Bethany rolled her eyes and quickly smacked him.

"Jay!"

"What! I couldn't help it – the bitch was hot!"

"You know, you can't talk to me that way anymore…I'm going to be somebody's mother," she explained, sounding as if she said it to convince herself of this truth, not only Jay. Jay looked at Bob in astonishment, who nodded his head in confirmation.

"You're _pregnant_?" Jay asked incredulously. His surprise lasted only a few seconds, however.

"You know pregnant women can have sex til their third trimester," he said meaningfully, looking Bethany over.

"I'll keep that in mind," Bethany said dryly, but her sarcasm was lost on Jay, who looked gleefully hopeful. Silence fell between the trio once more, and Bethany's brain buzzed to process all that they'd been through.

Even in the presence of the two guys whom she'd risked everything with, and of the new presence inside her, Bethany had never felt such loneliness, not even when her husband had left her. Then, she had felt numb, and angry, more than anything. But now, she had felt no closure whatsoever as the four-day whirlwind crusade had come to an end. She may have told Rufus that her crisis of faith was over – which, it more than likely was – that she had a 'good _idea_'. But that simply pertained to her _faith_; she had no idea what direction she should lead her _life_. It was slowly sinking in that she had just been in the presence of the Deity whose very existence she'd doubted for years, and had been given a gift of unspeakable value Bethany rubbed her abdomen absently.

Bethany was abruptly brought out of her reverie, flinching as a hand touched her shoulder. Silent Bob once again studied her face, still looking concerned.

"Whatsa matter wit you?" Jay demanded, not realizing that everything that had happened in the past four days may have had an effect on others, even if they hadn't had an effect on _him._

Bethany quickly stood up and took a deep breath, attempting to get rid of the burning sensation in her eyes that threatened to turn into tears.

"Nothing," she lied. Silent Bob looked disbelieving, and after a moment, Jay did as well.

"Wait wait –" he said, as if something was just dawning on him. "You gonna throw up or some shit?" he asked seriously, leaning back against the step away from Bethany.

"No, I'm not going to throw up. 'Or some shit'," Bethany answered tiredly. Good God, that was something she hadn't thought of, and was definitely not looking forward to: morning sickness. Jay seemed to read her thoughts – er, rather, _mis_read them.

"– yeah, pregnant women get that, what is it? Evening sickness? And – "

"_Morning_ sickness," Bethany corrected.

" – sore tits, –"

"Believe it or not I KNOW what pregnancy entails Jay!" Bethany snapped. Silent Bob smacked Jay in the shoulder, warning him to lay off. For once, Jay got the hint and fell silent.

Bethany aimlessly walked a few paces towards the sidewalk, arms crossed and eyes focusing on nothing in particular. Then she turned around and determinedly ascended the concrete stairs. Jay and Bob stood up and watched as Bethany opened the double doors of St. Michael's.

The doors creaked open, and Bethany stared into the darkness. There was no evidence that God and an angel had once stood there, none at all. To Bethany's surprise, she felt extremely…ordinary.

Another set of double doors led into the church proper. Bethany slowly opened them as well, as Silent Bob and Jay stood at the threshold of the first set.

All the candles were lit, and all was silent. Deserted. Bethany felt the silence press down upon her as she slid into a pew. Jay opened his mouth, but, luckily, Silent Bob stopped him from spewing anything ignorant. They watched as Bethany let down a kneeler and knelt, hands clasped at her forehead, her eyes closed.

For the first time in years, she prayed. Truly, compassionately prayed a heartfelt prayer.

Unbeknownst to Bethany and the Prophets, Metatron was watching from his ethereal perch.

Her participation in the crusade had, truthfully, surprised Metatron. He had only tapped her to try and coax the perpetratorsof the Bartleby-Loki situationout of hiding. He never dreamed she'd actually _solve _the riddle and save existence almost singlehandedly.They had come entirely too close this time; theoretically they'd teetered on the brink of nothingness and had almost fallen in. Metatron smiled as he watchedthe Scionfrom above; it was no lie he was exceedingly proud of her. Not to mention grateful. Metatron felt a twinge of satisfaction, knowing that her reward had been just. He grinned wider at the thought, once again recalling the moment he'd given it to her.

She'd changed. A lot. Course, that was to be expected, given what she'd just been through. No longer did Metatron sense confusion in Bethany's mind; now, there was only gratefulness…and he detected sadness. Quite a bit of it actually. He understood why.

…_When my husband decided he couldn't **be **with a wife who couldn't bear his children, where. Was. God!_

Metatron felt her loneliness, and flinched as she began to weep. Every fiber of him told him he should console her, just as he'd wanted to when they'd returned to Heaven minutes ago. But he knew he shouldn't. The crusade was over, and Bethany had to be on her own. Her renewed faith would pull her through.

As carefully as he dared, Metatron reached out with his mind to soothe her conscience. Abruptly, Bethany stopped crying: she'd felt it.

Bethany dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve as she sniffed back a few renegade tears. She finished her prayer, crossed herself and stood up. Genuflecting when she exited the pew, she turned to Jay and Silent Bob.

"Ya done? Cuz I'm fuckin' starving – " Jay began. Bob smacked him again, pointing to the crucifix over the altar.

"Aw he don't care," Jay started. "And I know _she_ don't care." Bethany ignored him.

"I'm going home," she said quietly.

"You're breaking up with us _again_?" Jay whined.

"Look, I was _never _going out with _either_ of you in the first place, so no I'm not 'breaking up with you'!" Bethany exclaimed. "I just…have to go home." Bob looked understanding, and held his arms out to Bethany, who welcomed the embrace. She kissed his cheek, and Bob smiled at her, reaching up to where she'd kissed him, then transferring the kiss to his chest, where he 'locked' it in his heart. Bethany grinned, then turned to say goodbye to Jay.

"Um, ya know, we could, uh –" Jay mumbled. "We could come, visit you," he finished meekly. "Before the, before the kid comes."

"I'd…I'd like that," Bethany said truthfully. Awkwardly Jay reached out for her, and as Bethany slowly extended her arms in apprehension, he tried to plant a kiss on her lips. She dodged it, and gave him a teasing peck on the cheek.

"Thanks for everything," Bethany said, and more tears sprang to her eyes. "Take care. Both of you."

Jay and Silent Bob parted so Bethany could step out of the church and into the sunlight.

"…Bethany?"

Puzzled, Bethany turned around. She'd never heard Bob speak before.

"Yes?"

Bob was silent, then he grinned. "May the Force be with you."


	8. You Can't Always Get What You Want

So yeah, am I the _only_ one on this site who has problems with words acting like magnets and running together in the middle of paragraphs? It is most embarassing to spot these nasty errors after a chapter has been uploaded. I swear, I go through the text with a extra-fine tooth comb, and the second I hit the 'Save Changes' button, random words jump together. :**Sigh**: I apologize for that mates; guess I'll just have to read the thing seven times instead of six when checking for errors. ;-)

From now on, I shall include a recap of what has happened in the story, in case you forget. ;-) This chapter is a shortie, and I'm sorry for that, too. But when I get a feeling in my gut to end a chapter, there is no ignoring it. Chapter 9: _Homeward Bound Part II _will be up by 7-8-05 barring no unseen delays.

Thanks to **Owarinari**, **Snape's Opera Rose**, **Bananas in Pajamas**, & **A Phantom Moon** for leaving me such lovely reviews! Love you all! (By the by, Phantom Moon, I TOTALLY agree with you, Metatron IS for lovers! And about Azrael's pink shirt...my best friend bought that shirt for her boyfriend, and my parents made fun of him for wearing it. I HAD to include it :-P )

Read and review pretty please...with Metatron on top... :-P

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**Enlightenment**

**RECAP:  
Azrael has been assigned a new task by Satan himself: destroy the Scions; in short, his mission is to 'shuffle loose the mortal coil' Bethany, along with her (unbeknownst to her, Metatron's) unborn child.** (That was a really bad sentence...) **The fallen angel Lucifer is Azrael's 'guide' of sorts, although Azrael sees his caustic company as more of a nuisance than anything else.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 8: _You Can't Always Get What You Want_**

After Azrael had finally grasped the fact he hada newappendage, (and had used it to relieve himself,) he rejoined Lucifer in the living room

"Now, something I don't understand," Azrael began. " – is I was under the impression that demons couldn't transubstantiate. So how the Hell do I – "

"Have a dick?" Lucifer finished.

"Could you maybe just once in a while let me finish a thought on my _own_, Miss Cleo!"

"Back off, Miss Cleo works for us. Besides, she reads _tarots_, not _minds_."

"Tarots, minds, whatever – " Azrael muttered.

"If your mind is a card of _any_ kind, it's a joker."

Azrael couldn't take this anymore. He got up from his chair and left the living room, making for the front door. Opening it, he found Lucifer standing on the stoop.

"Alright, alright, I'll answer your question," Lucifer groaned, as Azrael pushed past him and began walking down the street. Some neighborhood kids spotted him in his neon pink shirt, sniggering as they flew past on skateboards. Thoroughly disgusted, Azrael ripped the shirt off and threw it behind him as he continued to walk.

He had no idea if Lucifer was behind him or not; he didn't care. All he wanted to do was finish the job so he could rid himself of the demon's caustic company. No sooner had he thought this when Lucifer appeared on his left, gliding on a stolen skateboard.

"You know, I think those kids'd rather look at your shirt than your monkey-chest."

Azrael let the insult roll off his bare back. "Hey, I hear chicks dig chest hair," he said smoothly. "Now, you said you'd answer my question," he reminded Lucifer.

"Oh yes…what was it again?"

"_How_ I happen to be human when I've always thought demons _couldn't_ transubstantiate."

"Ah," Lucifer remembered. "Well, my understanding is Sammael felt things would go a lot smoother if you were a human," he explained with a smug grin. "A human can't really fight back against a demon such as myself," he snickered.

_But my conscience can. _Azrael tripped on his own feet, not believing he had just thought that. He'd have to get used to that now, that stupid little voice in the back of his head. He shook it off, hoping he'd be able to shut out Lucifer as well.

"So if Sammael desires you to be human – " Lucifer went on, snapping his fingers. "Bam."

"_Awfully_ kind of him," Azrael muttered. "This whole deal will have to be done the old-fashioned way since I'm fucking _powerless_ – "

"I never said you were powerless," Lucifer corrected. "You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you'll find – "

"You get what you need," Azrael grinned.

Azrael stopped walking and closed his eyes. He had to know where the Scions were…he _needed_ their location…

In his mind's eye, a fuzzy image appeared like the one he'd seen in Sammael's lair. He saw the Scion exiting St. Michael's.

He'd never catch her…

Azrael broke into a run, wincing as he began to feel the sun beating down on his exposed, pasty shoulders. Lucifer was gliding right alongside him.

"Betcha wish you hadn't taken off your shirt now, eh?"

"Shut UP!" Azrael shouted at him, attempting to leave him behind in his wake. What he needed now...was a car.


	9. Homeward Bound, Part II

My heart goes out to all those affected by the terrorist attacks in London. God bless.

On to happier things.  
...well, maybe only _slightly_ happier things. I must warn you, the content of this chapter is pretty damned dark. When you're finished reading it, you may think "Well, that wasn't so bad, what the hell is she talking about, 'dark'?", but I am merely thinking of those with not-so-strong stomachs. Graphic imagery lies ahead.

Oh yeah, and something I've been forgetting to put on these chapters...  
**Disclaimer:** No I don't own Dogma, or any of its characters, I only play with them. No, sadly, I do not own Alan Rickman either, but I, erm, play with him too. But yes, I DO own the plot and Lucifer's character - steal them, and you die. When this is made into a movie in a few years, you may take pride in the knowledge that you read the first 'screenplay' of it here. Damn, I'm ambitious.

**RECAP  
Azrael has made the discovery that though he is human, he is not completely powerless. Therefore, he will not have to carry out his mission the 'old-fashioned way'.  
Azrael, with Lucifer, a.k.a. Lucy, tagging along, begins to track Bethany as she heads home to McHenry.

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**

**Enlightenment**

**Chapter 9: _Homeward Bound, Part II_**

Bethany glanced in her rearview mirror. She could no longer see Jay and Bob. They'd insisted on her taking the bartender's car (which, miraculously, had a tank of gas that was continually _full_). Then they parted, Bethany heading towards McHenry, Illinois, the other two walking aimlessly down the sidewalk in front of St. Michael's, off to do God knew what.

At first, Bethany was worried about how she would find the way home. Despite being an average map-reader, she was still unsure how she'd maneuver the fourteen-hour drive back to McHenry. Also _miraculously_, the appropriate highway and exit signs glowed slightly, adding extra light to lead Bethany home.

Thrust into a sort of hypnotic trance by street lamps and the dashed yellow lines, Bethany drove and drove, not wanting to stop until she pulled into her apartment's parking lot. But a grumbling stomach and screaming bowels just outside of Cleveland forced her to stop at a Quikie-Mart. The car still didn't need gas, after seven hours of driving.

Bethany, amazed that she had driven so long, jerked open the bartender's glove compartment, hoping against hope that there was money to be found. _Miraculously_, she found a wad of cash and some change, totaling $42.36. She dashed into the station and asked the clerk for the bathroom. Once she came back out into the store, she began perusing the shelves for something slightly nutritious to eat. She'd seen larger quickie marts than this, ones that were more like a Wal-Mart attached to a gas station. The station she was in however, was more limited in its selection of junk food. Bethany finally grabbed a bag of 'dangerously cheesy' Cheetos, then moved to the coolers to pick out a soda.

Azrael watched her from behind a case of Bud Light, wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt that had 'appeared' on his back the moment he 'needed' it.

Bethany frowned as she grabbed a 24 oz. bottle of Dr. Pepper. Was caffeine unhealthy to drink during pregnancy? She didn't remember hearing any warnings about it, other than to 'consume in moderation'. Well, one bottle was moderation – there was no way she'd get home without something to keep her awake.

Azrael snatched a small pocketknife from a tacky aisle display and made his way, unnoticed by Bethany, to the front of the store.

_Are you sure this is the best way to do this?_

Azrael tried to ignore Lucifer's voice inside his head. Even though Lucifer was outside in the car, he was having fun finding ways to annoy Azrael. Then Azrael's newfound conscience started arguing with the demon.

_I shouldn't be doing this at all._

_Oh sod off._

_I will NOT!_

Azrael rolled his eyes as the two screamed at each other inside his head; he was beginning to feel like a phone extension connected to a damned party line.

"Will you both just shut _up_!" Azrael whispered warningly. Bethany turned from the cash register.

"Excuse me?"

Azrael panicked, keeping his back to Bethany and shuffling down an aisle somewhat, as he covertly fingered the pocketknife in his hand. His heart was thudding against his chest.

Bethany stared at the man'sback, but hedidn't turn around. Apparently he'd been talking to himself. The clerk gave Bethany her change, and Bethany walked to the door.

Azrael waited until she opened the door and was half way out before he moved. He flicked open the blade, making his way towards the door as Bethany stepped out into the late evening air.

"Are you going to pay for that mister?"

Azrael turned his head to look at the clerk.

"Pay for _what_?" he snarled, hiding the knife at his side as he cast a frantic glance out the door. Bethany hadn't reached her car yet.

"I wasn't born yesterday," the lady behind the counter said tiredly. "Now you either pay for that knife – " she lifted a 9mm from behind the counter, "or I'll call the police to wipe your slime off my door."

Azrael watched helplessly as Bethany's car disappeared into the sunset.

* * *

Finally, Bethany hit a stretch of road that was familiar to her. It was nearly eleven at night, and the Dr. Pepper's 'peppiness' had long since worn off. She followed another glowing exit that led to a somewhat deserted stretch of highway. 

She was tired. Bethany rubbed her eyes to try and rid the hazy film that seemed to be covering them. Then she realized the haziness wasn't in her eyes – her windshield was fogging up, and the road looked slightly wet, as if it had rained recently.

Bethany turned on the defroster and wipers as dark road stretched and twisted ahead of her.

She rounded a curve.

A small scream escaped Bethany's throat as she slammed hard on the brakes, her seatbelt cutting painfully into her chest and neck. A form, now just out of reach of the headlights that had spotted it, was awkwardly pulling itself up onto the road out of a drenched ravine.

Bethany let out a shaky sigh of relief, as a deer cautiously stepped into the flood of her car's highbeams. A doe, given the absence of any horns. The doe crossed the center line, and out of the darkness, a fawn clambered up the side of the road to join its mother. Bethany smiled.

With both deer in the other lane, Bethany carefully inched her car forward, as it began to rain.

Another carcareened around the bend, slamming into the two unsuspecting deer. Bethany screamed again as she saw the fawn crushed beneath a front tire,as its mother was sent flying off the road and into a tree. It landed in a boneless tangle of blood, legs and leaves on the opposite side of the road as the offending car flew past like a bat out of hell, leaving in its wake a road glistening with rain and blood.

"How's _that _for a metaphor?" Azrael grinned, looking over his shoulder and gripping the steering wheel as adrenaline surged through him.

"I think she'll be too shocked to think too deeply about it, nitwit," Lucifer replied. "Those _deer_ aren't a threat to us, _she_ is."

"You're sounding like a fucking PETA spokesperson," Azrael spat.

"All _I'm _saying, is that if _I _were _you_– "

"- which thankfully, I'm _not_," Azrael cut in, mimicking Lucifer's voice as he quoted him.

" – _I_ wouldn't be fucking around the bush," Lucifer finished, backhanding Azrael across the face from the passenger seat for his insolence.

Azrael glared at him as he made a U-turn.

"Lighten up Lucy," he finally cooed, returning to the spot where he'd creamed the deer. Bethany had apparently gotten away in a hurry; twin rubber burns were testament to that. Azrael squinted, trying to see past his wipers and through the rain as the drops came down harder and bigger. Red taillights could be seen nearly a mile away down the road.

"I've decided that I'm going to play it cool," Azrael said with a confident air. "On _my_ terms," he added, with a sideways glance at the demon sitting next to him.

"You'll do it on whatever fuck terms Sammael lays out," Lucifer warned.

"Nah," Azrael said, throwing the car into gear. "He's cool. I don't think he'll object to me and the Christ bitch having a little, _fun_."

There was a pause.

"It's 'Christ bitch and me'."

"Oh for the love of – !"

The car sped off into the darkness.

* * *

Bethany heavily leaned against her apartment's door as she struggled to put the key in the lock. 

The door swung open to her dark living room and kitchen. The only shadows were the result of a dim streetlight outside the building. Bethany closed and locked the door, and trudged down the hallway to her bedroom, her feet barely able to pick themselves up.

Bethany sat down on her bed, her heart still trying to catch up with the thoughts that were racing through her mind. For some reason, the thought of the deer wouldn't go away. Obviously, witnessing the gruesome accident had shaken her, but now, hours later, when it should be fading into the recesses of her tired mind, it was still bothering her.

Tugging off her shoes, Bethany rocked back and forth on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, as if her legs were going detach themselves from her body and run. Sadly she looked around her. Her room smelled ever so slightly of fish (perhaps she was just imagining it,) but in place of the _fffffisssh_, the bat she had brandished against Metatron had reappeared, and was now lying forgotten on the floor. Bethany leaned over and picked it up, its smooth surface conjuring up the vivid memoriessurrounding its use. Other than it, and just like the inside of St. Michael's, there was no evidence that anything remotely ethereal had set foot in her apartment.

Now, it was well past midnight, and Bethany laid back on her quilted bedspread, intending to surrender to sleep without changing into her PJs, even though a grumbling stomach protested.

The thoughts of themangled deer didn't leave her mind's eye. Bethany tried not to think about it, as it was starting to make her empty stomach feel queasy. She tossed and turned endlessly. Then the memory of the mortal wound she'd sustained unplugging John Doe Jersey resurfaced.

Bethany weakly sat up on her bed, trying not to upset her stomach further with any quick movements. A taste of bile rising into her mouth sent her flying down the hall to the bathroom.

She collapsed in front of her toilet, barely able to lift the lid before her stomach lurched. Ten minutes passed with Bethany trying to catch her breath between vomiting. The first time was enough to empty her stomach of the measly Cheetos, so the rest were dry heaves, as if her stomach were trying to turn itself inside out.

When Bethany finally returned to her room, it was three minutes after one in the morning. She stumbled over piles of her clothes as she clambered back into bed. No doubt she'd have plenty of nights like this with morning sickness. With that slightly depressing thought, sleep finally took her.

Dreams featuring the events of the last four days played themselves over and over again in Bethany's head. A pillar of flame, tequila, a naked apostle, hockey sticks, wings, a stripper, a silent woman in a shining dress, all jumbled and out of order. Then the horrible sensation in her gut returned.

She was hunched over the toilet, ready to retch again, when she sensed…something…behind her. A few strands of her hair fell in her face, making Bethany realize that, although her hands were nowhere near the nape of her neck to hold it back, _something_ had been holding her hair back _for_ her.

Bethany took a deep breath, then whipped around, facing the bathroom wall.

And nothing else.

The suddenness of her movement upset her stomach, and another retch kept Bethany hovering over the toilet. When the sickening feeling finally subsided enough for her to stand up, she rinsed her mouth and sleepily, dizzily, made her way back to her room, and _hopefully_, she thought,back to sleep.

"Feeling any better?" a familiar voice asked.

Bethany's heart nearly stopped in fright for the second time that night, as she spun around to see the tall outline of Metatron, whose shadowy face bore an anxious look. Completely taken off-guard, Bethany backed into the bed, her mouth open in a scream that never came, and her eyes as big assaucers.

"Well," Metatron smirked, folding his arms. "_That_ was certainly a different greeting than last time. Not that you look like you could swing a bat at the moment," he drawled, a wry smile spreading across his features as he spotted the bat on the edge of Bethany's bed.

Hisvoice seemed miles away to Bethany. Metatron's smile faded instantly, noticing her fluttering eyes go in and out of focus.

"Hold on there –" he said, reaching out to try and catch her as she swayed, but she fell away from him, landing in a heap at the foot of her bed. Metatron knelt and grasped her shoulders, bringing her up into a sitting position. Bethany managed to mumble "Metatron – " before she started to swoon again.

"Easy there old girl," Metatron said gently, and he pulled her close, bringing her head to his broad chest, and Bethany felt all the sickness draining from her body, as if he were absorbing it into himself merely by touching her. She breathed a great sigh, but said nothing. Cradling her like a baby, Metatron effortlessly picked Bethany up and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Word upstairs is you might have a rough night," he whispered in her ear. "Just thought I'd drop in to see," he said gently, resting his cheek upon Bethany's head. Wrapped in the safe warmth of his arms, Bethany felt better than she ever had in the last few days.

But with a loud crack, Metatron vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.

Bethany found herself on the floor of her bedroom, and looked wildly about her as another crack of thunder rocked her apartment. Rain pelted the windows, as lightning illuminated her room momentarily, followed by another thunderclap.

Hoping she wouldn't fall out of bed again, Bethany slowly crept back underneath the covers, half-expecting to hear the Voice.

Silence.

It was a dream, Bethany thought with a disappointed sigh. She was indeed having a rough night, but no one from 'upstairs' was going to check on her.

**Don't worry - the real Metatron will make an appearance soon - next chapter I think... ;-) R&R if you please.**


	10. Influences

I won't be able to post for a while, as I will be on vacation for a few days (until the 31st). But I will still be writing, and will type up all my text when I get back. Watch this story's summary for next post date...and again, feel free to visit my blog (see my bio).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dogma or its characters, I only play with them. But Lucifer/Lucy IS mine, as is the plot, so please, kindly sod off.

Allow me to say that I am sort of surprised that no one as yet has chanced a guess at Lucifer's 'identity', that is to say, who he looks like...there have been two clues thus far.  
Also, keep your eyes open for other plot clues and heavy foreshadowing, they are devices that I love to use.  
My apologies for any word-smushing; I swear, I can't help it.  
Happy reading, and please R&R.

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**RECAP:  
Bethany is now home in McHenry, and unbeknownst to her ("but knownst to us"), is being tracked by Azrael and Lucifer, a.k.a. Lucy. The following events take place on a Friday in March, the day after Bethany gets home.**

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**_Enlightenment_**

**Chapter 10: Influences.**

Metatron paced back and forth, thinking hard. Something wasn't quite right.

Technically, there wasn't anything really amiss. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, nothing to give him reason to think that Bethany was in danger. Yes, they'd been on high alert when Mary was with Jesus, but Satan hadn't made a move. Luckily. But, perhaps with this Scion…

Metatron shook his head. The agents of darkness were becoming more and more audacious. He was actually surprised they hadn't done anything by now…

Metatron found himself walking aimlessly about, causing the clouds at his feet to froth like some mad scientist's bungled potion. Then he sensed it.

Metatron rolled his eyes. The Muse was nearby. Metatron waited for her to make herself known and begin babbling about…something…

But Serendipity didn't appear. Metatron closed his eyes; the Muse was apparently very deep in thought. The angel sighed; whenever Serendipity was 'deep in thought', some poor mortal was affected in one way or another, and usually not to their benefit.

Metatron clasped his hands behind his back, trying to focus in on her energy waves. After a few seconds, he detected her location.

Serendipity, eyes closed in concentration, didn't notice Metatron walk upbehind her. She smiled to herself as she watched her handiwork in motion.

Metatron had his arms wrapped around Bethany, comforting her as he sat on the edge of her bed. _Word upstairs is that you might have a rough night…just thought I'd drop in to see…_ he was saying. Serendipity could tell that Bethany was extremely calm in his presence, not to mention content.

"SER – EN – DIP – I –TY!" The Muse nearly jumped out of her ethereal skin, as Metatron had just shouted in her ear. She wrenched her mind away from Bethany to break the connection, but not before she saw her falling off the bed as her dream ended abruptly. Then she turned to Metatron, whose eyebrows were raised in suspicion.

"So. What was _that_ all about? Playing the dating game _again _I assume?" he asked in a bored voice.

"I, um, no it wasn't – " Serendipity started, looking up into Metatron's face. Metatron looked hard at her, then closed his eyes. He saw Bethany in his mind's eye, getting slowly off the floor and climbing back into bed underneath her quilt.

"What did you _do,_ Muse?" Metatron asked suspiciously. He wasn't really _angry_, for he knew that the Muse would never do anything to hurt Bethany. But, Serendipity decided, his evident annoyance certainly was a parallel of his anger, at leastin terms of fervor. She'd might as well come clean – there was no point in lying to an angel.

"Oh, fine I was just…making her dream," she explained with a wave of her hand, hoping to dismiss the matter. Metatron paused.

"One where she falls out of _bed_?" Metatron asked, raising an eyebrow. "What I wouldn't give to be able to experience sleep and dreams like _that_ –" It had been so long ago, _eons_, that he'd been mortal...he quite forgot what it was like to sleep, or dream.

"Oh, shut up!" Serendipity was whining. "I wanted to put her mind at rest. Doesn't look like she had a great trip home."

"What, have you been watching her?"

"Why, haven't you been?" Serendipity asked. Metatron frowned. He hadn't, he'd been in Rome.

Metatron concentrated hard, and saw what Bethany had seen: the slain deer, (a _mother_ and _fawn_, he noted) and the roadwet with their blood. Both could be construed as blatant signs; even the Muse couldn't deny the metaphoric overtones of the images. But try as he might, Metatron's senses could pick up _nothing_ that betrayed a servant of Satan had had a hand in the deed. He looked back at the Muse, who was scrutinizing him closely.

"A dream, eh?" he asked. Serendipity rolled her eyes in frustration.

"_Yes!_ That's all!"

Metatron eyed her doubtfully, as his thoughts shifted to Bethany again. And their child. They couldn't allow anything to happen to the Scions…_he_ _**wouldn't**_allow anything to happen to them. Metatron sighed; he wasn't in the mood for arguing with Serendipity, especially since he knew that what he was about to askmight give the Muse ideas...as if she needed them.

"I want you toinfluence the Prophets to return to McHenry," he said resignedly at length, having made up his mind.

"Why?" urged Serendipity, though she chanced a guess at the Voice's reasoning; the images of the slain deer had her slightly worried, too.

"Because I want them there that's why!"

"Why do you want them there?" she asked, not flinching as Metatron's Voice grew louder in agitation.

"_Jesus wept_ do I have to fucking spell it out for you? I want them there to look after Bethany! That's _why_!"

Serendipity smiled inwardly, inspecting her impeccable nails and acting as if she was contemplating her answer. Truth be told, she'd already thought of doing this herself before Metatron asked her.

"Okay," she said with knowing smile, which irritated Metatron all the more.

"THANK YOU!" he snapped, and once again, Heaven and earth quaked as he stormed off.

* * *

Silent Bob quickly wiped a tear from his eye before it traveled too far down his cheek. He doubted that Jay would notice though, as he chanced a glance at him from across the motel room. He watched as Jay fought to keep his eyelids open, as putrid smoke encircled his head. Good. He was too 'far out' to notice him crying again. Silent Bob turned back to the TV. A woman's voice announced over the credits: _Stay tuned for our encore presentation of Pretty in Pink, starring Molly Ringwald, coming up next in our John Hughes weekend marathon! Only on the Lifetime Network!_ Bob wiped away one last tear before reaching for the remote. He didn't feel like watching it again. Well, he'd like to, but he didn't necessarily want to cry again. Bob settled deeper intohis chair and began to channel surf. 

**_Click_**_. ''I'll be back-'  
**Click**. -Oh Lucifer! You-'  
**Click**.'-failure to communicate-'  
**Click**. '-she's gone, Doctor-'  
**Click**. '-I'll see you in Hell!-'  
**Click**. "_Hey Bob."

Silent Bob fell out of his chair and stared wide-eyed at the beautiful woman now addressing him from the TV. Jay looked up at the noise and tried to focus his eyes on the TV. "Isssahottchikfomdabawrrrr..." he managed to say before his circle of smoke overtook him once more. Bob ignored him as Jay continued to mutter to himself, saying something about _"They're here..."_ Now over his initial shock, Bob continued to stare at the TV, waiting for Serendipity to speak again.

"Listen up babe, you and Hornypants over there," she glowered in Jay's direction, obviously very disapproving of his current activity. "You boys have some work to do. God and Metatron, well, mostly Metatron, but you didn't hear that from _me_ -God and Metatron would sleep better at night, metaphorically speaking of course, God and Metatron don't need sleep, none of us do really,- anyway they'd feel a lot better, all of us would actually, if you and Jay were looking after Bethany while she's in her condition. So. Get on the bus that's waiting outside and go back to McHenry. She lives at 66 Lange Place, not too far from the clinic, where you guys saved her from the Stygian Triplets a few nights ago-" Serendipity paused for a breath and noticed the frown on Bob's face. She could tell he was worried.

_Why _would they need him and Jay to look after Bethany again? Then Bob remembered what Metatron had said to them both in the restaurant. _Well. The Prophets **finally** live up to their titles._ The Above had placed trust in them, and now they were needed again. They needed him and Jay. _Bethany_ needed him and Jay.

"Just look after the girlie, okay? And keep your eyes open for anything...suspicious," Serendipity cautioned. Bob raised an eyebrow at this. "Not that anything should be looking suspicious, or that we're worried that something might happen, or that ...oh screw it. Just take care of her, and the Last Scion," she finished. Bob grinned reassuringly, and made his way over to the corner where Jay had finally passed out. Hauling him over his shoulder, Bob walked to the door and opened it. Sure enough, a bus was parked next to the sidewalk with its engine idling. As he stepped out, Bob glanced back at the TV.

"We'll be in touch," Serendipity grinned, and the TV clicked off, the lights went out, and the door slammed behind Jay and Bob.

* * *

Bethany drowsily willed her eyelids to open. The dim light of the evening sun filtered through the blinds, lining her bed with shadows. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. 4:43 p.m. She'd slept all day; thank _God_ she'd unplugged the phone, and thank _God_ tomorrow was Saturday. 

Bethany groaned as her spine popped and creaked as she sat up and stretched, reaching for the ceiling. She didn't necessarily feel refreshed, but she was certainly grateful for sleeping so long.

The birds in the trees outside twittered halfheartedly, as if they were groggy too. The sun was almost set, causing the road and the sidewalk below her window to be bathed in light as red as blood. Blood….

The shadows were lengthening, but the streetlights hadn't come on. The trees shivered as a wind breathed through their branches, which hadn't quite popped yet with spring foliage. It promised to be a clear March evening; perhaps she'd go for a walk to wake herself up.

After slipping on a pair of jeans and hooded sweatshirt (she grinned as she adjusted the hood) Bethany found herself outside, shivering slightly as she walked aimlessly along the deserted sidewalk. The sky began to deepen in color as she walked, first to a shade of maroon, then to a dark navy blue. The stars' bright faces began to glow as the night sky finally turned black.

After a time, Bethany stopped walking with her head down and her eyes downcast. She didn't feel worthy enough to set foot in her church, St. Stephen's, a large stone cathedral piercing the night skyto her right. Somehow, it just didn't…feel right. She continued to walk. Yes, she was pregnant with the next descendant of Christ himself, but Bethany remembered the mistake she'd made all those years ago, and subsequent lesser mistakes. She'd never forgive herself. _Why_ had she done it?

Angry tears burst from her eyes, and Bethany stopped walking again to collect her thoughts as she continued to shiver. Whether it was from the cool air or the feelings of déjà vu, she couldn't tell. Then she recognized the tan and green _Welcome _mat she was standing on, and began to sob as she looked up at the front door of the Women's Clinic. She collapsed on the stoop and hugged her knees, trying hard to settle herself down and stop the tears. But they continued to come out of nowhere, big, guilty tears that multiplied as the minutes ticked by. She tried to cry softly so that no one would hear her, and she curled up into a ball on the stoop, rocking back and forth, unable to escape the consuming guilt.

Bethany flinched as someone took hold of her wrists. She tensed up and held onto her knees tighter, trying to remember if she'd brought her Mase. The person's touch was warm, but the grip was firm.

"What in the name of common sense does this prove? This does nothing for you and the child Bethany."

Bethany immediately stopped crying, but did not look up. The angel's silky voice seemed to reach into her stomach and release a handful of butterflies. Nervously and embarassedlyshe continued to clutch her knees.

"Let's get you home lass."

Bethany nodded numbly. She heard a _snap_, and felt the familiar softness of her couch beneath her. Then a blanket was gently placed around her shoulders. Bethany bit her lip. She knew he was standing before her, but she didn't want to look at him. Yes, he'd known all about her before she'd met him, so he knew _then_ what atrocity she'd committed. But the memory hadn't crossed her mind at the time. Being alone for so long had numbed the memories. But now, things were different. Bethany began to sob softly as she remembered how audacious she'd been, holding a grudge against God, when it was _she_ who infected her own uterus in the first place.

She heard him crouch before her, but the last thing she wanted to do was look him in the eye. Gently he took both of her hands and held them.

Her tears subsided slightly. His presence was _so_ comforting and reassuring. She wiped her sore eyes on her sleeve.

"Shhhh…."

Bethany sniffed at her runny nose, opened her eyes, and promptly screamed.

Metatron reeled. Bethany's eyes were shut tight again, but she was wildly fumbling among the couch cushions for the TV remote. Having found it, she quickly stood up to strike Metatron with it. She opened her eyes to aim as she drew back, then stopped midswing when she sawit was himstanding before her. She dropped the remote, which hit the coffee table, shattering the glass top. Bethany then lunged at Metatron, but not violently.

Metatron quickly opened his arms to welcome Bethany's embrace as she half-fell into them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wringing her hands behind his neck.

Metatron nodded, then pulled her away from him slightly.

"What did you see?" he asked with concern. Bethany's pupils were still dilated in fear. Metatron gripped her arms below the shoulders.

"Bethany? What did you see?" he asked, more urgently this time.

"I…I don't know," she stammered. "It…a face…" she said vacantly. She blinked, then flinched. The image seemed to be burned onto the backs of her eyelids now. She gripped Metatron tighter, trying to escape the horrifying countenance. Not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and began to cry. The image seemed to fade somewhat with her tears, but the initial shock of it left Bethany shaken.

Metatron wet his lips. "A demon?" he asked. "Did you see a demonic face?"

Bethany instantly shivered, then nodded. Metatron set his jaw, vehement anger deeply etchedon his face. Gently he sat Bethany back on the couch.

"…what's happening?" she choked, trying to regain her composure.

"…Sammael wouldn't dare…" Metatron futilely growled under his breath, knowing full well that Sammael _would_ dare.

Bethany looked up at Metatron with wide eyes, then hugged him closer.

"Who's Sammael?" she whispered.

"Mephistopheles, Beelzebub, Old Nick, Metatron, Sammael, otherwise known as Satan," Metatron stated, deciding not to avoid Bethany's question. Best that she knew what she was up against.

"Satan," Bethany breathed. She sat down slowly on the couch. Metatron touched a finger to the coffee table and the spider-webbing cracks sucked themselves back to the epicenter of impact, returning the glass to its normal state. Bethany looked up and blinked curiously at him as he crouched before her once again.

"Wait, wait, repeat that?" she said, getting that weird, dreamlike feeling of déjà vu; she seemed to be getting it a lot lately. "You're the devil?" she asked with an uneasy smirk. "Where's your pitch fork?"

"What?" Metatron asked. "Oh, because I said 'Metatron'. No, I'm not the devil," he assured her. "His name is not necessarily…_interchangeable_ with mine, but there are hundreds of names for Satan, and Metatron just happens to be one of them."

"Oh," Bethany said. "That's…odd." Her face went slack and here eyes glazed over, as her hand inched up to protect her womb.

"Satan…" she whispered, squeezing her stomach.

"Bethany," Metatron began. Bethany sniffed, and put her head in her other hand. This was only the second day of her pregnancy, and she was already having a hard time of it. Metatron bit his lip and tried again.

"Bethany…" he murmured, reaching up to hold the hand that protected his baby. At the sound of her name and the grip of hishand, she sharply drew in a breath.

"What?" she said softly, running her hand through her hair to pull it away from her face as she sniffed away tears, trying bravely to act as if nothing had happened. Metatron looked at her hard.

"I cannot stress enough the gravity of your situation," Metatron said slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. Bethany poorly disguised a gulp as she shrank back slightly, and Metatron went on.

"You carry within you the nemesis of Mephistopheles. Surely you understand what that means for him."

Bethany nodded.

"So, he'll come after me?" she asked meekly. "After _us_?"

Metatron didn't want to answer that directly. He moved his legs so that he was now kneeling before her, and he held both her hands over her abdomen.

"I swear to you," he began, his voice conveying the sincerity in his eyes, "I would cut off my wings and descend into Hell before I let anything happen to you," he pledged softly. Then that wonderful smirk of his played across his lips, and he squeezed her stomach a little: "Or the Last Scion."

Bethany looked at him, stunned. No one had ever spoken to her like that. Even when she and her husband had taken their vows, his voice when he said "I do" didn't have a fraction of the sincerity Metatron's had. She tried to force a smile; it was either that, or cry and gush some more. She chose the former.

"I'll hold you to that," she grinned. Metatron beamed at her, glad he was able to make her smile.

"I mustspeak withHer," he said, sensing God's presence in his mind andstanding up. "I'll be back."

Bethany snorted at his ignorance of having just quoted one of the most famous lines in film history.

"What?" he asked, looking bewildered and slightly hurt.

"Nothing, nothing," Bethany giggled, waving him away. "Go, go, fly away." And Metatron did, with a snap of his fingers.

* * *

Azrael watched the Voice sit the Scion on her couch. 

Before he'd even so much as _thought_ of doing anything, the angel had found Bethany, scooped her up and whisked her back to her apartment. All because she felt _guilty _and _horrible _about something she'd done in her past. _What a pansy,_ he thought. Azrael had watched with interest, noting how fast the angel had appeared; there was no doubt in his mind the Above were watching her very, _very_, carefully.

He had then flicked an image of a demon before her eyes, and one of the worst kind: a soul-sucker, the type whose sole purpose was to possess the unwary, the vulnerable. They fed on horror and feasted on grief, and their countenances were thusly twisted and macabre. Azrael knew it was something Bethany would not soon forget, especially as she had expected to see Metatron when she opened her eyes.

Azrael's face lit up with glee, and he chuckled silently as he watched the Scion attempt to attack the angel with a TV remote.

As the Voice calmed her down, a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of Azrael's stomach writhed about with foreboding: perhaps Sammael's fears were being realized. Perhaps this was _the_ last Scion...

Azrael's lip curled at the thought. If he had anything to do with it, this last Scion would never see the light of day. He'd use their protectiveness to his advantage, make it their ultimate downfall. He might even have a little fun with the Voice, too...

_You're horrible._

"Shut up," Azrael snarled, his plotting interrupted.

"I didn't say anything asshole," Lucifer snapped.

"No, no, not - not you - " Azrael said impatiently, waving Lucifer's response away.

Azrael stepped away from Bethany's window, allowing Lucifer to control his descent, as Bethany's window was on the third floor of her building.

"So what's the next move, mastermind?" Lucifer asked, obviously a bit annoyed with Azrael's petty scare tactics. "Perhaps you'd like to butcher a puppy and nail it to her front door?"

"Did I ever tell you how much I _treasure_ your company Lucy?" Azrael asked in a steely voice.

"You know, you're lucky for that cloaking incantation. With all this truly _horrific _demonic activity, it's a wonder you aren't struck down where you stand," Lucifer commented.

"Ah yes, indeed," Azrael agreed. "But they can't smite what they can't see."


	11. Back to the Hughes State

Apologies for my tardiness mates. A list of reasons why I did not update on time are posted on my blog. Thank you _Owarinari_ for visiting it!

This one's a bit short, but I will try to update in about another week...be forewarned, after August 20, my updates will be spaced further apart as my first year of college begins. Forgive me. As always, I will keep you posted on posts (ha ha) in my blog.

Happy reading; R&R please.

* * *

**RECAP:  
Azrael is taking his mission to destroy the Scions more seriously than was to be expected, with Lucifer, the ex-angel 'Morning Star' tagging along. Heeding his own suspicions, Metatron requests the insufferable Muse Serendipity to 'influence' the Prophets to return to McHenry to watch over Bethany, while he himself pledges to protect her and (_their_) the unborn baby, the next Last Scion.  
Note Whilst viewing _Dogma, _I zoomed in on a newspaper and noticed that I was a month off in my guessing when the events of this film took place. In the last chapter, I said it was March, whereas the newspaper stated April. Pardon my error.**_

* * *

_

**Enlightenment  
Chapter 11: Back to the Hughes State**

Rrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnnggggggg! Rrrrrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggggg!

Bethany wished the fire alarm would stop going off; it was disturbing her sleep.

_Rrrriiinnggg!_

Wait…

Bethany untangled her legs and sprang up from the couch, launching herself at the phone on the wall in her kitchen; when she returned home, she'donly unplugged the one in her bedroom.

"Hel – hello?" she panted, glancing at the clock. It was quarter to ten.

" – realize how many times I've tried to reach you – !"

"Liz! Oh gosh – um, look – I'm sorry – "

" – worried sick – everybody at work wonderin' what the hell happened – "

"Something came up, Liz –" Bethany tried to edge into the conversation to explain. " – I'm fine – don't worry –"

" – will be there in a little bit – have to pick up cigarettes and run errands – see you – stay there!"

_Click_.

_Lost that round_ Bethany thought to herself. Yawning as she hung up the phone, she attempted to straighten her apartment – Liz frankly didn't care what her apartment looked like, but it had been engrained in Bethany since she was a child that a living space should always be fit for company. "I'm not company!" Liz would say. Bethany laughed at the thought as she moved from room to room tidying. When she was finished, she decided she had enough time to take a relaxing bath.

Bethany tested the water in the tub as it began to fill, then began to peel her clothes off, feeling slightly awkward with her body – she blamed it on hanging around a guy who had been wanting to rip her clothes off for the past few days. Bethany thought about Jay and Bob in Jersey, and although their company certainly wasn't the best, loneliness welled up inside her, and once againfelt close to tears.

"Damned hormones," she grumbled, looking down at her still flat abdomen, slightly annoyed.

She eased herself into the steaming water, feeling all the aches and pains leave her body. She felt as though someone had wrapped her in their arms, washing away all her cares and worries.

Wait a minute... The warm, reassuring feeling felt so...so déjà vu. Then she remembered the night before.

She remembered her walk, and Metatron taking her home, holding her close; she pushed away the thoughts that had caused her to break down on the sidewalk as the reassuringsensation then melted into something different.

Bethany felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, as if she wasn't alone. Then the image of the demon resurfaced in her mind, and goosebumps erupted all over her wet skin, as the hot water failed to shield her from her darker thoughts.

Bethany gave a shiver and attempted to blink the image away; she knew she'd never forget it, but she wouldn't allow a mere image to frighten her again.

Yet.

Besides, Metatron had promised to protect her.

Something else had begun to prey on her mind at this point. She knew that Liz would interrogate her to no end about _why_ she'd been gone the last few days, which would eventually lead to having to somehow explain _how _her crisis of faith had ended in mere days. That was very complicated indeed, not to mention it would seem a little bit far fetched, _even_ for Liz.

There was also the little stranger; how in the _world _wasshe to explain that? True, she wouldn't have to tellLiz right away, butshe justmightsuspect something other than a tapeworm when her belly started to grow. "Who's the father Bethany?" Liz would ask. And Bethany wouldn't be able to supply her with an answer. Not being able to give her best friend an answer would bother her, yes,but not _nearly _as much as the fact thatBethany was incapable of giving _herself_ an honest answer. Yes, the Holy Spirit worked wonders, but just maybe, at the very least, God had to have drawn 'inspiration' from somewhere...

Bethany shivered again, and her eyes settled on the ceiling vent, which had just kicked on, blowing cold air onto her, including the back of her neck. She rolled her eyes, and then sank deeper into the hot water, pushing all forms of thought from her mind.

Bethany remained in the water until the temperature became to cool for comfort beforeslowlyclambering out of the tub, being careful not to lether wet feet slip on the linoleum tile of her bathroom floor. She glanced at the clock above the vanity as she began to dry off. 10:27.

_Buzz._

Bethany stopped dead at the sound of her doorbell.

_Buzz! Buzz! _

There was no possible way it could be Liz: she never used the doorbell, and Bethany trusted her enough to give her a spare key, so she often just let herself in. Who could it be?

_Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! _

_Whoever it is, their middle name is 'Impatient',_ Bethany thought to herself. Wrapping a towel about her body and then pulling her bathrobe on over it, she silently opened the door to her bathroom and trotted down the hall. Upon entering her bedroom, she grabbed the baseball bat from the floor, then slowly made her way down the hall towards the door of her apartment.

_Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!_

Bethany gulped audibly as she came to a halt before her front door. "Who is it?" she squeaked. A **buzz** and a handful of garbled curse words were her answer. She squinted slightly as she peered through the peephole, and then jumped back with a gasp when she saw an eye looking back at her. More curse words. Bethany only had time to tighten the grip on the ball bat before the door started to quiver.

_My God, they're going to kick the door in..._ Bethany planted her feet, and as the lock gave way, the door burst inwards as someone began to enter her apartment. Bethany let out an almighty scream and swung the bat.

* * *

"Number 66, this is it man," said Jay with a yawn. He'd slept through most of the bus trip back to McHenry, and was still trying to shake off the sleepiness and the drug effects. He didn't really grasp what was going on yet, but he was quite angry when he woke up on the bus and found out that once again he was heading to the 'Hughes State'. But his lengthy nap afterwards had mellowed him a little, and he began his usual talk of getting down with Bethany. 

Jay rang the doorbell once. Twice. Three times. No answer from within the apartment.

"What the shit man, where the fuck is she?" Jay whined, jabbing the doorbell with his finger again. Bob patiently squinted through the peephole, but saw nothing, as Jay got more and more aggravated.

"Fuck man! How the fuck are we supposed to guard her or whatever if we don't even know where the _fuck_ she is?" Jay whined again, still jabbing the doorbell. Bob tried to block out the sound of the buzzing, and listening intently, placed his ear to the door. After a few seconds, he was sure he heard a voice through the door, though it only came to his ears as a mere squeak. He motioned for silence, but Jay was now kicking the door _and _ringing the bell.

"Open the fuckin' door!" he yelled, and he leaned in closer to look through the peephole. A screech on the other side of the door sent Jay flailing and pounding at the door, despite Bob's efforts to restrain him.

"Some fuck's got her! He's in there with her now – I heard her scream!" Jay bellowed, and with one final kick, the lock on the door gave way, and the door swung open. Jay dashed in first.

"Yo muthafuka you had better leggo of–_oomph!_"

A baseball bat came swinging out of nowhere, aimed at Jay's head. Upon seeing who exactly was walking through her door, Bethany screamed, and attempted to stop midswing. But it was too late. With a resounding _THWACK!_ the bat came crashing down on Jay's skull, and he quickly staggered and slumped to the floor. Bob merely nodded his greetings to her, and bent down to roll Jay over.

"_Bob? Jay? _Omigod, oh God," Bethany cried in a small voice. She knelt down beside Bob and helped him shift Jay.

"My God…what…wh-…what are you two _doing_ here?" Bethany demanded, still clutching the bat, poised to swing againas she looked from one to the other, as if she expected them to melt into something different. Bob pointed towards the ceiling.

"_They_ sent you? Why?" Bethany asked, lowering her bat slowly. Bob shrugged.

Bethany gazed down at Jay, who had a goofy grin on his face. Bethany removed his Snoogans cap and gently probed his scalp. Luckily, she could feel no protrusions of bone; the blow would have most certainly crushed his skull if Bethany had not stopped midswing. All she'd done was knock him out. Finding no blood, (although she was sure he'd have a nice bruise somewhere on his head,) she motioned to the living room.

"Here, let's get him over to the couch," she said, as she began to reach down to grab Jay beneath the armpits. Bob waved her away, and heaved Jay into his arms and then laid him on the couch. Bethany quickly found a Ziploc bag, stuffed it with crushed ice, and then wrapped it in a towel. Placing the bundle on Jay's head, she dropped tiredly into a chair near the couch. Bob followed suit.

"So," she said, studying him through half-closed eyes, "they really didn't tell you anything, much less _why _you two were supposed to come back to Illinois?"

Bob shook his head.

"So, they weren't…expecting anything to like, _happen_, were they?" she asked uneasily, beginning to wonder if indeed there was a lot more to that demonic image than she was willing to let on.

Bob threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. Bethany laughed quietly.

"Nope, I should've known," she admitted bitterly."They seem to enjoy keeping people in the dark about things don't they?"

Bob nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, ain't that _annoyin?_" a new voice inquired.

**More to come soon...**


	12. The Guardian

WOW! Thanks a lot for all of the aMaZiNg reviews people! You know who you are! D  
My apologies mates. I have just started my first year of university and it is HELL! I mean, a very enjoyable Hell, yes, but who knew one could get so much art homework! Anyhow, I am sorry I took so long to update. Chapter 13 just needs a few more tweaks, and it should be ready for posting in about a week or so. I beg of you all, please, never, ever, EVER think I have forgotten this story. It's just now that school has started up again,I am swamped with work, and can only write on weekends (if then). So I think it's safe to expect about a chapter (maybe the occasional _two) _a month. Sorry! Again, I implore you all to check my blog; I do not post Author's Notes as 'chapters' to let you all know my progress. That is what my blog is for, so I shall try my best to keep IT up to date.

Also, sorry that this is kinda short...just, please, get over it. I know it may not seem up to par, or worth the month wait, but it is a necessary chapter, believe me.  
And c'mon people! Make a guess as to who Lucifer is!  
Read and Review please!  
Cheers,  
Andi

* * *

As soon as Metatron appeared in Heaven, She reached into his mind, requesting his presence.

Metatron blinked and materialized before the throne, genuflecting at Her feet.

"Hosanna," Metatron reverently whispered in praise. As always, She raised a hand for him to stand, which he did, in respectful silence, as was the unspoken protocol. Then,

"You rang?" he drawled. God laughed silently. She loved his sense of humor. It was after all, technically _Hers_. Metatron was basically a very masculine representation of Herself, in all aspects save limitations of power. That said, he was the perfect angel to hold the title of 'Prince of Seraphim', basically acting as the Left Hand of God.

She pondered this. Had She been too greedy to anoint him, to take him away from his human life and family, albeit by thenhe'd alreadylived longer than Abraham would have…?

God blinked. How long had she been musing? From the look on Metatron's face, it must have been a pretty good while. She smiled her apologies.

"I have a report," Metatron said at his most businesslike.

_You are concerned for the Scion?_ She asked, reading his thoughts.

"Scion_**s**_," Metatron boldly corrected with a grin. God returned the smile, secretly very happy for her favourite angel. Then Metatron's face turned grave, as he silently bowed his head. She studied him carefully.

_Fear not, my child._

Metatron bit his lower lip and nodded that her point was taken.

_They are in good hands. _

"Of course," Metatron conceded, still not looking up at her.

_Yours._

That had gotten his attention. Metatron's head snapped up to look at his Deity, who simply smiled Her knowing smile.

_I am pleased with the pledge you have made to the Scions._ She said inside her angel's head. Metatron proudly stood up straighter.

_Which is why I shall adjust your status._

Metatron studied her curiously, waiting for Her to explain.

_Don't worry. You are still my favorite Voice. _

"I am your only Voice."

_Have you ever wondered why that is? _

"Never had the time," Metatron answered honestly.

_I trust you._

"How could you not? I can't have alcohol anymore, therefore it is highly unlikely I lose my inhibitions enough to make ill decisions."

God smiled. From any other ethereal, his response would certainly be insolent. On the other hand, no other angel would _dare_ make an insolent remark. In Metatron's case, it was just his nature.

_You know that is not how I meant._

Metatron embarrassedly sneered at the rebuke, nodding in agreement.

_I trust you more than any other angel, not only because you have proven yourself worthy, but because you simply are the best for the task I am assigning you. _

Metatron was silent.

_Will you accept this task? _

"Amen," Metatron answered, bowing his head.

God leaned back in Her Throne, as Metatron waited for his job description.

_Your task shall be to act as Grigori over the Scions. I would have no other angel guard them at this most important of times._ Metatron's eyes widened, and God smiled. _You will still be regarded as Seraph, **and** my Voice, be not afraid. _

"I was not concerned about that aspect," Metatron said defensively, which was true. "Although I must say that is a relief, considering how Bartleby disgraced the name of Grigori…"

God did not smile.

"Forgive me," Metatron said instantly, bowing his head. once again.God nodded her understanding.

He had just been deeply humbled by the magnitude of what She was asking him to do. It was what he had planned to do anyway, yes, but to have Her personally ask him to guard Her descendants…

_Your task will be complete when she gives birth, _She went on._ If you wish to continue acting as guardian over them both once the child is born, you may do so. Until then, their protection is to be your top priority. Again, I ask you, are you willing to do this?_

Metatron looked up at Her gravely. "I am," he vowed, his eyes moist. "Thy will be done." God beamed Her approval, and leaned down from her throne to kiss Her Voice's forehead.

_Go in peace._

"Amen."

Metatron excused himself from Her presence, and found himself wandering the clouds once more, deep in thought.

Did this mean he was to visit her on Earth? Keep her company? Or merely watch from Above, until intercession was _absolutely necessary_? Metatron stopped walking at this thought.

Hadn't that been the issue from day one? Whether or not _any_ of them should return? Metatron inhaled deeply. As Bethany's guardian angel, he had been given Her blessing to do what he deemed necessary.

Serendipity watched him with a curious eye, but she did not go unnoticed. Metatron heaved a heavy sigh.

"What do you want _now_ Muse?" he asked tiredly, as he began to walk again.

"What was all that about?" she asked pointedly. "Something important?"

"Tell me, is it _really_ any of your business? If She'd wanted you to be informed, She would have sought an audience with you as well."

Serendipity rolled her eyes. "Pardon _me_ for being curious."

Metatron snorted. "More like impertinent."

Silence fell between them for a precious moment, then Serendipity tried again.

"Are you going back to Earth?"

"Maybe." Metatron hadn't yet decided if he would. Serendipity took his ambiguity as sarcasm.

"Going to see the Pope?"

"Saw him the other day."

"Billy Graham?"

"No."

"Going on vacation?"

"Angels don't go on vacation."

"Well I thought maybe you would finally decide to ask Her if you cou–"

"Look!" Metatron stopped walking abruptly and spun around to face her, extremely annoyed. "I've got a new job, alright?"

"You're not the Voice anymore?"

"No, I'm still Her Voice." Serendipity waited for him to elaborate. "But I'm a guardian now as well." Serendipity raised her eyebrows.

"Wow," she said in subdued surprise, as Metatron began walking again. She followed.

"You're Bethany's guardian." It was more of a statement than a question.

Pause. "Until she gives birth."

"What about afterwards?"

Another pause. "That is for me to decide."

"Oh…" The two ethereals continued to walk, both silent and deep in thought.

"Are you going to live with her then?" the Muse asked lightly. Metatron did his best to hide his surprise. He still hadn't decided if he'd even return to Earth in order to watch over Bethany (he didn't _have _to return to Earth to do that,) but the Muse made it sound like it was the obvious thing to do. Metatron sighed; he might as well visit Bethany in person, seeing as he'd been given God's blessing and She trusted him to do what he thought best. He'd like to see her again anyhow. Needless to say, she was not the only one a little shaken by the demonic image, even if _she_ was the one who had seen it.

"If she wishes it," he answered objectively. "Now that you have your precious information, will you kindly stop badgering me!"

"Of course," Serendipity said sweetly, and with a swish of her ponytail, she disappeared, off to do God knew what.

Metatron sighed again, glad she was no longer around to pester him. He decided against visiting Bethany immediately – _can't have too much of a good thing_, he chuckled to himself.

Perhaps later on, when, God forbid, a situation arose that deemed 'divine intervention' absolutely necessary.


	13. Grand Central Station

**Hello again everyone. Apologies (as always) are in due order for my lateness, and forthe brevity of the following chapter. College is a handful, let me tell ya.  
Something else that is in due order is a great big THANK YOU to everyone who reviews! 10 for last chapter - that's a new high: thanks guys! And I thank _everyone_ who reads this, even if you don't review, because at least I know there are quite a few people out there who enjoy my story. You're what keeps me writing.**

**And to those of you who say that there isn't enough romance between Met and Beth yet: rest assured, it's beginning in earnest as of this chapter. I like to think of myself as asomewhat decent author, so I HAD to establish the _plot_ first to makethis believable. The mushy stuff you guys want IS coming...**

**R&R (Does NOT stand for 'read and run') _please_, it's what keeps me warm on these cold nights...  
Happy reading, and I'll see you on the flip side...(P.S. Watch my blog for updates on Chapter 14 - will begin writing it this coming weekend!)  
Captain a.k.a. Andi

* * *

RECAP:  
Bethany safely returns home to McHenry, Illinois. The Prophets, otherwise known as Jay & Silent Bob, arrive on her doorstep, per Serendipity's 'influence' and Metatron's orders. And chaos ensues... **

RECAP:Bethany safely returns home to McHenry, Illinois. The Prophets, otherwise known as Jay & Silent Bob, arrive on her doorstep, per Serendipity's 'influence' and Metatron's orders. And chaos ensues... RECAP:Bethany safely returns home to McHenry, Illinois. The Prophets, otherwise known as Jay & Silent Bob, arrive on her doorstep, per Serendipity's 'influence' and Metatron's orders. And chaos ensues...

* * *

**_Enlightenment  
_Chapter 13: Grand Central Station**

Bob and Bethany bolted out of their seats to face the 13th Apostle.

Bethany blinked. "Rufus…? What are _you_ doing here...?"

"Nice to see you too. I just thought I'd drop in for a visit. Hey Biggie!" Rufus exclaimed once he saw Bob standing behind Bethany.

Bethany blinked again. Something very odd was going on here. "A visit?" She asked incredulously. Rufus nodded and plopped himself down in the chair Bethany had vacated, glancing at Jay, who had now begun to sing about 'Puff the Magic Dragon' with a toothy grin on his face. Bob was still standing in the middle of the room, seemingly (like Bethany) unable to grasp what the _hell_ was going on.

"A visit," Bethany repeated, crossing her arms agitatedly and raising an eyebrow. "_Why _would you visit?" she asked sternly.

"Now that's kind of a stupid question," Rufus laughed, slapping his knee. Bethany had never seen him act this way. It worried her; he seemed like he was trying to hide something.  
"It would be stupid if I hadn't just seen you two days ago."

Rufus' eyes darted around the room as the smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had spread itself there.

"I would really appreciate it if _someone_ would tell me _something_ about why the hell you guys are PAYING ME VISITS!" Bethany said loudly, losing her patience. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

**

* * *

**  
Metatron sat down once again to update his records, a little more glumly than usual; the world was falling to pieces, and it was getting harder and harder to find good in the human race. 

The thought of the Last Scion somewhat alleviated these dreary times, but Metatron felt pity for those who were not privy to the knowledge of her future existence, and the hope she could bring.

Metatron paused, his finger stopped halfway across the page in midscript. A strange calm surrounded him.

That could only mean one thing.

The Muse was not in Heaven to pester him.

Metatron grinned broadly, returning to his writing as the light of the dawning sun behind him intensified.

Metatron paused again.

If Serendipity wasn't in the ethereal planes, then where _was_ she?

...More importantly, what was she _doing_?

Metatron growled in annoyance and slammed his book shut. Even though she _wasn't_ there, the Muse had succeeded in interrupting his work. _Again_.

After Azrael had been banished to Hell, the Muse was just as nosy, nagging and overall annoying as she always had been. The only difference was her insufferable ways now affected her _new_ big 'brother': one, particular Seraph.

Metatron cursed Azrael under his breath.

Closing his eyes, the Seraph concentrated hard on visualizing the Muse's whereabouts. What aggravated him further was that he was in fact acting the part of big brother.

He couldn't locate her precisely, which meant she was en route to the Earthly planes. Where could she be heading? Sure, she could be merely going to actually _do _her job and inspire someone, but what if...?

In the next few seconds, Serendipity arrived on Earth, and Metatron saw her destination.

Bethany Sloane's kitchen.

"_SERENDIPITY_!"

**

* * *

**  
"Look, Bethany-" Rufus began cajolingly. 

"Why are Jay and Bob back here? Did _you_ send them?" Bethany asked, cutting him off.

"To be truthful, _nothing_ is going on, and _I_ sent Bob and Hornypants." Bethany began to feel lightheaded as she turned to greet _another_ ethereal visitor. Serendipity stoodin the doorwaytothe apartmentwith a smirk on her face as shesurveyed the broken door, the bat, and finally Jay, who was now trying to sit up on the couch.

"What the fuck happened?" he said, holding the icebag to his forehead. Bethany ignored him as Bob tried to explain to Jay, (by charades of course) what had happened.

"Why? Why did you send them?" she asked Serendipity impatiently.

"Well, initially it wasn't_ my _idea," the Muse chuckled, as she restored Bethany's door and closed it. "Can you believe it? Actually it was Met– "

Serendipity's hand was barely off the doorknob when it turned again and the door swung inward, nearly knocking the Muse over.

"Hey Beth, letting myself in," Liz was saying, with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth as she tried to readjust the brown grocery bags she carried. She stopped abruptly when her eyes fell on all the people present in Bethany's living room.

"Jesus,…um, Beth…you didn't mention that you were throwing a party…uh, why are all these people here…?"

"Frankly, I don't have a clue, but I wish somebody would tell me WHEN THE HELL MY LIVING ROOM BECAME GRAND CENTRAL STATION!" Bethany roared, causing everybody in the room to flinch. She opened her mouth to talk again, but words failed her. She had to sit down; she was getting too lightheaded.

"Who are you?" Liz asked the assemblage boldly, looking from face to face as she fully entered the apartment.

"Who wants to know?"

Liz turned around in time to see the door to Bethany's apartment swing shut, revealing a tall, dark haired man in a blood red suit and black hoodie. He was leaning against the wall with his arms tightly crossed and an eyebrow raised, apparently as unhappy with the present situation as Bethany was. His eyes were flashing dangerously.

"Not this muthafucker again?" Jay asked in a feeble whine.

"Voice," Rufus said with a grin.

"Apostle," Metatron acknowledged steely.

Bethany clutched her abdomen as she felt the tightening in her stomach return.

"M-m-metatron…?" she breathed weakly. Metatron's gaze shifted to Bethany, and his face relaxed somewhat, his eyes twinkling for a split second.

"Due to Miss Sloane's attire-" Metatron motioned towards Bethany, who was still in her bathrobe and towel, "I would have thought you lot would realize she was not fit to receive company at the present time. Then again perhaps I just overestimated your intelligence."

Rufus and Serendipity grumbled beneath their respective breaths, and Liz looked downright insulted.

This was just too much. Bethany gazed around the room, not knowing who to look to for help in understanding the situation. "This is unreal…_why_ are you all here? What's going on…does this have something to do with…I want some…" she babbled. She opened her mouth to expel more questions, but instead she swayed on the spot, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Bethany!" Liz cried, finally taking her eyes off of the intriguing man in red. By the time she had thrown her groceries on the kitchen counter, Metatron had swiftly moved to catch Bethany before she hit the floor. She lay completely limp in his arms.

"Muse, Apostle, get Liz back to her apartment," he said shortly, standing up straight as he cradled Bethany.

"Hey buddy, how'd you know my name? And I don't need an _escort,_" Liz said defiantly, moving towards him to check on her best friend.

"Take the _Prophets_ with you," Metatron ordered, ignoring Liz completely.

"Come on, let's go outside," Serendipity said grudgingly, tugging on Liz's shirtsleeve as she opened the door.

"You just wait one hot second! Is she gonna be okay? What's going on here? What's he doing with her?" Liz began babbling angrily as Bob helped Jay off the couch, who was looking like he'd pass out too. The two of them slowly followed Rufus out the door, who was trying to help Serendipity calm down a very worried and frustrated Liz. Jay turned around to face Metatron, who was carrying Bethany down the hall to her bedroom.

"You better take care of her," Jay warned breathlessly. "You hear me man?"

"I _intend _to," Metatron replied steely. _"Man," _he added as he continued walking down the hallway. Bob then shut the door ashe exited the apartment before Jay could tear after Metatron.

Metatron laid Bethany down on her bed, and then sat on the edge. As soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyes began to flutter as she stirred. When her eyes finally focused, she looked at Metatron and flinched.

"M-metatron," she said weakly. "Wh-what happened?"

"I want an explanation," he said coolly.

Bethany simply blinked at him. "Explanation? For, for wh–?"

"Care to tell me why you insisted on throwing a party with_out_ inviting me?" Metatron asked, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes.

"I, I didn't invite them – party? – I don't know how they got here...Jay and Bob– " she stammered, wondering more than ever if it was _she_ and not Jay who had been clubbed with a baseball bat.

"And the _Muse_ of all people–," Metatron added in disgust.

"Look, I'm sorry, I swear, I didn't invite them, they just – " Bethany continued. Then she stopped when she noticed the smirk that Metatron could no longer hide.

"Got ya," he winked. Bethany rolled her eyes and laid back heavily against the pillows.

"Shame on you!" she scolded, growing more annoyed as Metatron chuckled deeply. The sound caused an odd feelingto surface inBethany's stomach.

"Now can I get an explanation from _you?_ What happened?" she asked quietly, trying to forget the lurch in her stomach. She hoped she wouldn't be sick again...

"Well Ms. Sloane, you keeled over. Totally natural. So many unexpected visitors certainly didn't help," Metatron answered.

"But, _why_ is everyone here? What's wrong? Where's Liz?" Bethany beganspluttering again as she tried to sit up.

"Hush, old girl. Lie back down. The Muse and the Apostle took Liz back to her apartment. The Prophets went with them."

Bethany gazed at him intently, but did not lie back down. She gulped.

"Are they going to tell her? That I'm…" she trailed off, as she unconsciously held her abdomen with her left hand.

"I doubt it," Metatron answered truthfully. "Serendipity will probably be able to make her forget the whole thing, _and_ all of us. You can tell her when you're ready."

Bethany sighed. Metatron glanced down as she continued to rub her stomach. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Look, everything will be fine Bethany. I promise."

"How can you say that? Everything _can't_ be fine when I have a Muse, the 13th Apostle, two stoners and the Voice of God in my living room for a 'visit'."

"You always were clever."

"Oh please, it's painfully obvious that some–" Bethany began, rolling her eyes. Then she noticed Metatron's facetiously cocked eyebrow.

"Oh," she said, feeling as if her IQ dropped a few points for missing his sarcasm.

Metatron sighed, as he continued to hold Bethany's hand. "I said everything _will_ be fine. Technically it is _now_, but-"

"This has something to do with the...demon...I saw, doesn't it?" Bethany asked slowly. Metatron said nothing, avoiding her gaze. It was amazing how Bethany's eyes seemed to hold the same unnerving power that his Deity's did.

"Do you know what's going on? Or are you guys just waiting for something else to happen, is that it?" Bethany added hotly.

"Look, I _told_ you our best guess – "

"Best _guess?_" Bethany laughed, somewhat hysterically. "Well that makes me feel safe, knowing that even _God_ is unsure of what's going on," she said drolly.

"That is _only_ because Sammael is a blind spot – "

"Blind spot? Why the Hell would Satan be a blind spot? Isn't that part of Her _job _to keep him in check? Keep him from conquering Heaven?"

"When She banished him, he lost Her Grace that all angels are given when they are created. He's unpredictable," Metatron said simply. "That's why there is _always_ a war for the Throne," he explained. "But the catch is, because She _made_ him, he can _never_ vanquish Her. Luckily, Satan is too proud to realize it," Metatron snorted disapprovingly. "She only allows him his continued existence because there must be a disturbance to the balance in order for there to _be _balance. You can thank Adam and Eve for that, as they ruined your kind's chance for a utopia."

Metatron smiled as he watched Bethany struggle to understand all the information he'd just thrown at her.

"Just nod your head Bethany," he smirked.

"Whatever you say," she sighed, lying back down on her pillow. Metatron snapped his fingers and a cool washcloth appeared on her forehead. Bethany continued to hold Metatron's hand, then shifted it so it rested on her abdomen. Secretly Metatron wondered if she had guessed her child's parentage.

Perhaps he should tell her?...

"This feels so...déjà vu, in a way," Bethany said, interrupting his thoughts. "We were kind of in this position the night I came home. In my dream I mean," she gushed. Then she blushed profusely. _Stupid, stupid, stupid why did you tell him that!  
_  
"Your dream, eh?" Metatron repeated, once again raising an eyebrow. He made a mental note to have a word or two with the Muse; the list of things to _discuss_ with her was growing longer by the second.

"Did you visit me that night?" Bethany asked, looking up at him thoughtfully as she stroked the back of his hand.

"No, I was in Rome," Metatron replied. Bethany's face fell.

"You need rest," Metatron said firmly at length, withdrawing his hand from Bethany's stomach as he stood up.

"I feel like that's all I've done since I came home," Bethany mumbled, noting how quickly the warmth of Metatron's hands faded away.

"You certainly have every reason to feel tired, if you need reminding," Metatron pointed out.

"Are you leaving?" Bethany asked. Metatron felt a pang at the disappointment he heard in her voice.

"I have several things I need to discuss with the Muse and the Apostle," he said matter-of-factly, hoping that would answer her question. His edgy tone dared her to ask why.

"Oh. Ok," Bethany replied meekly. Then,

"Why...why did _you_ come?" she asked curiously, sitting up in bed again, quickly raising a hand to catch the washcloth as it slid from her forehead.

Metatron opened his mouth to answer, before realizing he didn't _have_ an answer. He couldn't tell her the _real _reason, that he only came down to keep the other ethereals from...coming, down...and...interfering...

Damn, he looked like a hypocrite right now.

Bethany waited forhim to answer,studying him ashe stared out her window.

"I wanted to be sure you were alright," Metatron said softly, turning his gaze back to her.

To say that his response surprised Bethany would be an understatement.

"Oh," she said again. "Th-thank you," she smiled, as the crimson in her cheeks intensified.

Metatron nodded wordlessly, then headed for the door.

Bethany rolled over in bed as the Seraph quietly shut the door behind him. She smiled in spite of herself; it seemed the angel was taking his pledge quite seriously.

That might not be such a _bad_ thing...


	14. AN URGENT NOTE

My dear readers,

It is I, your beloved author, Andi, a.k.a Drew, Captain, or whatever other ridiculous nickname I've signed my chapters with. :)

First off, I want you to know I simply LOATHE authors who upload notes in place of chapters. I find it incredibly annoying, so hopefully you will all understand how grave my situation is that I would stoop to post an author's note in place of a highly anticipated next chapter.

I am recovering from a 2 week stint in the hospital, where I came very close to, to put it delicately, not making it. I suffered from major blood clots in my leg and both my lungs, and spent five days in the ICU with a tube in my chest to drain excess blood from my lungs so I wouldn't drown. I had a team of five doctors pull me through, and I owe my life to them, as I easily could have died of a heart attack or stroke at the ripe old age of 19, had any of the clots made it to my heart or brain.

I am back at home, and am very weak, but I'm managing to get around using a cane and/or walker until my leg is fully healed (I came close to losing it). I am also psychologically healing, as I am very, very depressed that, due to my health, I have had to withdraw from my university for this semester, which I'd been looking forward to all summer.

Now that I've explained my situation, I hope you will all forgive me for not posting a new chapter straight away. It is nearly finished (and had been for some time, BEFORE I went into the hospital, unfortunately,) and I regret to inform you all that I will be moving the post date back until at least mid-September. My deepest, sincerest apologies.

sigh Well, that's about all for now. In my opinion, I believe you can all rest assured that this story WILL be finished one day; if what has happened hasn't stopped me, what could possibly? ;)

I appreciate all your reviews, especially the latest ones, as I read them right after I got out of the hospital. It's amazing how a few little words can lift the spirits. Thank you all, so very very much.

I'll see you in September. Keep a weather eye on the horizon.

Yours in prose,

-Andi-


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